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THE LEGEND 
OF McNUTT 


A £>tory of Early Sjai;:? 2Jife anb 
(Hljnsltantty In t!;r 
anh Mississippi Brlta 


BY YV. L. ANDERSON 


A PASTOR IN THI M. E. CHURCH, SOUTH, AT M’NUTT, MISS. 
FEBRUARY 22, 1902 


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Nashville, Tenn.; Dallas, Tex. j\ 

|j Publishing House Methodist Episcopal Church, South i 
Bigham Sc Smith, Agents 

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REV, W. L. ANDERSON, 
VlcNUTT, v -- MISS, 



Class "PZ.3. 

Book . . A 55- 3 4- 1- 

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THE LEGEND 
OF McNUTT 


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A S>lnnj nf Early i^umcJCifi? anb 
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BY W. L. ANDERSON 

. PASTOR IN THE M. E. CHURckjSOUTH, AT M’NUTT, MISS. 
FEBRUARY 22, 1902 



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Nashville, Tenn.; Dallas, Tex. 

Publishing House Methodist Episcopal Church, South 
Bigham & Smith, Agents 
1902 



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THE LIBRARY OP 
CONOR ESS, 

TWO CuHfce RECEIVED 

NOV, 2? 1902 

COPYRIGHT ENTRY 

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5LAS8 ^XXc No. 
COPY B. 



Copyright, 1902 
W. L. ANDERSON 
A'A Right? Reserved 

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To a TUorflig Son of tiro ©Id South:, 


MY FELLOW COUNTY MAN AND FELLOW-LABORER IN THE GOSPEL, 
AND MY LIFELONG FRIEND, 

SOMETIME PASTOR AT M’NUTT, 

WHOSE YOUNG WIFE LIES BY THE AUTHOR’S SON, 

BURIED NEAR THE SWEEPING RED ELMS 
MENTIONED IN TH£SJE C^H^^ERS, , 

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To Anticipate 


The author’s overflowing sympathy with many thrilling in- 
cidents related of the early settling of this now vastly re- 
sourceful section, known the world over as the “ Mississippi 
and Yazoo Delta,” seasoned as they are with the romantic 
and with the hardships and privations attendant on the pi- 
oneer efforts to plant the gospel here in the van of advancing 
■civilization, is the only excuse he offers for the impulse to 
publish these pages. 

If the fastidious reader concludes that the details are 
fraught with too much tragedy and the semibarbaric cast to 
come from the pen of a Methodist minister, let him inquire 
into facts, and ascertain if this side light isn’t really very 
much a modification. Then he may note also that the whole 
trend of our narrative is on the side of moral rectitude and 
probity. 

We foresee a criticism on the ground of too much authen- 
tic data for the make-up of pure fiction, and disarm it by 
claiming the necessity of conforming to such a period as will 
lend a degree of consistency to many incidents connecting 
with such conditions as once really obtained, but not far re- 
moved from the memory of the oldest surviving inhabitants. 

The Author. 




























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♦ 




































* 












THE LEGEND OF McNUTT. 


CHAPTER I. 

O’er all the roaring, trackless depths 
Of fertile Delta land 

Few feet had trod, and none but God had ruled 
With undisputed hand. 

The fairest forms of natural grace, 

In zone or belt or realm, 

Here lay to bless the human race 
That dared to grasp the helm ; 

But, as who touched White Mountain’s stone, 

The grasping perished with his own. 

The sulking, careworn countenance of Daniel 
Pluet was much softened as the deep twilight began 
to gather which seemed likely to be prolonged in a 
measure through the night by the appearance of the 
full-orbed moon. He had been seated more than an 
hour on the sloping trunk of a large pecan tree that 
had been uprooted by a recent hurricane that dashed 
down from the northwest — the final stroke of winter, 
as it retired reluctantly before the march of the on- 
coming spring. The fallen soldier-veteran of the for- 
est kingdom, being one of the largest of its kind, with 
wide-branching foliage, had parted from its fellows of 
the scarcely broken forest around only after a des- 
perate battle at the close of full a hundredth winter. 
It had yielded to the combined influences of both 
wind and wave; for while the tempest surged at its 
boughs, the receding waters of the great overflow of 


2 The Legend of McNutt. 

1825 were finishing the overthrow by softening and 
undermining the soil about its roots so as to render 
further resistance impossible. 

It was about the last of April when the waters re- 
ceded, and this slain offering lay as many of its kind 
then, and many humankind since, at the mercy of 
the merciless waters, but partially pacified by being 
allowed to roam at large over the wide expanse of the 
Yazoo and Mississippi Delta, then uninhabited ex- 
cept as an occasional slave owner with overstocked 
plantation in the hill country sought outlet and em- 
ployment for the numerous blacks which multiplied 
under the taskmasters’ whip equal to the Israelites in 
Egyptian bondage. A few of the old slave “deaden- 
ings” were to be found in the upper and smaller end 
of the Delta, possibly also on the eastern and south- 
ern borders ; but in the middle portion there was 
barely “a stick amiss,” and the giant forest trees 
stood with tall bare trunks supporting such a com- 
plete umbrella of foliage as to almost totally exclude 
the sun. The surface of the earth was nearly or quite 
necked in the low sags, while on the rich, black loam 
ridges the blue cane, dense, large, and long, afforded 
the native lair of the black bear and wolf, the brindle 
panther and catamount. Here the wild deer met few 
enemies except those native to the forest. And where 
the switch or short cane grew and in the glades, with 
no sound to grate upon the ear ever attentive and 
alert, and no foreign scent to greet the ever-di'stended 
and suspecting nostrils, this semi-kine, semi-hare in- 
habitant of the virgin forest abounded. They were 
almost annually driven to the highest elevation's by 
the high waters and were there set upon by other 


3 


The Legend of McNutt. 

animals, also gathered on these eminences in order 
to rest on terra tirma, and either made a prey or 
driven back into the turbulent floods, only to perish 
there. In this way the deer were thinned down, or 
they would doubtless have become a's numerous as 
sheep in Australia or the Rocky Mountains. So nu- 
merous were they once in the upland forests as to 
furnish almost the only meat used by the aboriginal 
tribes that monopolized those fastnesses and what- 
ever they afforded for so many centuries, 

“sole creation’s lord;” 

though the Indian rarely built his village in the low- 
lands of the Mississippi. 

The deer that remained after the overflow abated 
were usually large, fat, and strong, as only such could 
survive the struggle. But soon the mosquito and 
gnat drove them to cover, and they gradually became 
lean until the approach of cold weather, when they 
continued to browse from moon-up till moon-down, 
so that by winter they were again fat and eatable. 

Daniel Pluet sat on this reclining pecan trunk fully 
gratified, with his flint-and-steel fowling-piece leaning 
against the clay root as it lay upturned on the bank 
of a beautiful ribbonlike sheet of water that wound 
its way among the dense forest growth, scarcely wide 
enough to make a perceptible gap through the vegeta- 
ble kingdom, while the long stems of blue cane 
stretched a beautiful filagree fringe full ten feet over 
its brink and occasionally into the now crystal water 
as if in a vain effort to wash off the dark soil left by 
the recently withdrawn freshet. 

It was May 25, and Daniel had been in camp 


4 The Legend of McNutt. 

here only two days and nights. At the beginning of 
this reverie he had slain a fine buck as it pushed 
through the cane to the water’s edge to drink, pre- 
paratory to the night’s ramblings, which always begin 
with the deer at moonrise and usually continue till 
it sets. This came at an opportune moment. The 
deer fell at the crack of the rifle, within earshot of the 
camp ; whence Fletcher, son of the said Daniel Pluet, 
and Sandy, the only slave they possessed, came at the 
sound of the gun and dragged the deer to camp and 
were dressing it preparatory to supper, while Mr. Pluet 
remained to execute his first design of catching a 
mess of bream for breakfast. Sandy had but just re- 
turned from a trip to a trading boat on the Talla- 
hatchie River, which he had seen pass a bend far below 
three days before, and knew where it would likely 
land for a while, and which lay back to the northeast 
of this particular spot about ten miles. 

An old cut-off had left the lake on which they 
had pitched their tent to remain in peaceful solitude 
some centuries before, so long before that the sem- 
blance of a river had all but faded into the quiet of an 
inland lake, nothing reminding one of a river except 
the width and length of the body on which vegetation 
had encroached until it was not over one hundred 
yards in its greatest width, while every few miles 
there were shallows that could be forded in winter 
and crossed dry-shod in summer. 

Sandy had gone to the river by the only open trail 
known to exist near, and returned with two bushels 
of meal suspended from one shoulder, and a smaller 
sack, once used for coffee, containing twenty-five 
pounds of salt on the other, all costing three dollars. 


5 


The Legend of McNutt. 

Provisions were very dear at this point, being shipped 
down the Mississippi to Walnut Hills, then but 
slightly come into notice, near the mouth of the Ya- 
zoo, up the latter and the Tallahatchie to the above 
mentioned point near the head of navigation, known 
at this day as Minter City, but at the time of this 
purchase it was merely the convergence of foot trails 
and bridle ways simply known as “Cottonwood Bend” 
or “The Bend.” The “squatters” who went to this 
point to obtain provisions brought up by the boats 
“simply went to the river.” 

Fletcher had been busy all day rendering the lard 
of a big black bear killed the last day of their journey 
toward this camp, near the upper end of the lake, 
where the party halted for dinner, and to hew a large 
“dug-out,” in which the whole party, with all their 
possessions, bear and all, floated down to the place 
of encampment. The boat was then fastened near-by 
with whang. These facts, together with Sandy’s suc- 
cessful trip to the river, were among the causes of 
Mr. Pluet’s gratification; but probably the greatest 
source of his good humor lay in the fact that spring 
had now opened in earnest, the overflow was gone, 
and the struggle for existence relaxed somewhat for 
a season. 

The sun had sunk below the dense tree tops; and, 
though it was not “down” to those living on the east- 
ern highlands, twenty-five miles away, to this small 
remnant of a family twilight was on. The air was 
balmy, and the newly robed forest was fragrant with 
the odors of the wild plum and grapevine. The birds 
were hushing their warbles for the night. The king- 
fisher made occasional sallies down the center of the 


6 


The Legend of McNutt. 

lake, past the habitation of the newcomers, with his 
continual cha-cha-cha, and the forlorn hoot of a soli- 
tary owl awoke the echoes over the creeping stillness. 

The lake seemed alive with the finny tribe, and the 
frequent “flap” of the tail of a large fish-gar on its 
surface made no difference in the frolicsome activity 
of trout, pike, and top-water that kept the surface of 
their liquid home in incessant commotion of ever-in- 
terlinking ripples through which to view the, to them, 
never settled face of the heavens. The numerous 
water terrapins that lined the floating logs slid into 
the water with a “choog-choog-choog” at the noise 
of the rifle shot and the hurry through the cane of 
the campers. At this delightful time of evening the 
bream were taking the tackle rapidly, to the evident 
satisfaction of the experienced fisherman, who had 
already landed thirty or more fine, thick, firm beauties, 
when they somewhat let up biting, leaving the fisher- 
man in doubt whether the school was exhausted or 
had discovered the treachery of the tackle and ceased 
to take it. 

He had begun the exercise with the unpleasant fact 
on his mind that his last cent had gone for the meal 
and salt, that his supply of powder and ball was run- 
ning low, and that his tackle was old and of doubtful 
strength, “all because,” he sullenly murmured under 
his breath with clinched teeth, “that highway robber 
and forest pirate, Henry Janes, hindered us from 
going down to ’Orleans with the raft.” But these 
thoughts, however bitter, were held in abeyance by 
the successes of the day and the tranquillity of the 
evening. “Ah well,” said he, looking to the east, “as 
the sun sets in the west to close the day, there comes 


The Legend of McNutt. 7 

another of the lesser lights to smile on us. We shall 
likely have a quiet night.” 

At this juncture his attention was attracted by the 
shaking cane on the top of the lake bank, just where 
the deer descended to drink. He rapidly but care- 
fully retreated to his gun leaning by the clay root, 
uncertain of the cause of his disturbance. His first 
thought naturally was of another deer, but this was 
dissipated on the quick reflection that the sound of 
his gun an hour before would frighten any deer in the 
vicinity from that trail. Then, he concluded, it must 
be a panther drawn by the scent of blood to where 
the buck had been slain. This idea was alike deemed 
improbable on account of the unusual stir among 
the thick blue cane, for the panther never makes even 
the sound of a footfall when creeping in quest of 
prey. The only plausible alternative was a bear, that 
possibly had not scented his presence, as the gen- 
tle breeze was fanning from the southeast. These 
thoughts flashed so rapidly through the mind of the 
experienced woodsman that he was hardly conscious 
he had grasped his gun so stealthily and drawn it up 
so threateningly, ready to meet whatever emergency 
might be precipitated by the appearance of the object 
he was sure would soon come into view, by the motion 
of the cane. What was his surprise or emotion when 
a moment later he stood face to face with a man, one 
whom he felt he had seen, but owing to the unexpect- 
ed meeting and the radical alteration in whose ap- 
parel he hesitated a moment to recognize. For the 
rugged, canvas, raftsman’s dress and coon-skin cap 
had been replaced by a new suit of seal brown jean's 
of the best and a neat and durable hat of lighter shade 


8 The Legend of McNutt. 

and English make, and these wrought such a change 
as to puzzle Mr. Pluet for a moment in the haze of 
twilight to recognize his intruder as Captain Henry 
Janes, his supposed defrauder and enemy. Both men 
were fixed to the spots where they stood, each won- 
dering how to proceed — Henry, awed by the unex- 
pected position of the rifle, and Daniel wondering why 
he had been followed now into this retreat a second 
time by one who had deprived him of his rights and 
almost of his life, by reducing him to such straits as 
he was now in after passing a hard winter and battling 
with the turbulent waters for two dreary months. 


CHAPTER II. 


Behind the clash and jar — 

Neath rugged, treach’rous, plotting mien 
Unmixed, sneak, undercraft is seen; 

Unmasked of myst’ry’s tangled woof, 

The soul of man thrusts not aloof; 

And oft the gist of great commotions, 

Unraveled, change to sweet emotions, 

Like brotherhood in war . — The Author . 

A full minute passed while the two stood thus 
spellbound. The silence was broken by Captain 
Janes’s throwing up both hands and forcing a smile 
in spite of the horror he felt at being shot down by a 
man whose determination he knew, and who had a 
right, in the certain knowledge of both, to feel he had 
sustained serious injury at the other’s hands. 

“Well, Pluet, my old friend, don’t act rashly and 
condemn a man without a hearing,” said Janes, whose 
accent was pure English, though he was of French- 
Irish extraction, with an attitude of compromise be- 
tween the brusqueness of the laboring Irishman and 
the suave gentility of the French trader. 

“A hearin’! you pusillanimous pirate, haven’t you 
had hearin’ enough to satisfy me that you have robbed 
an honest man of his raft, an’ nearly of his life ? Don’t 
I know that a man ’at’d do that would shed innocent 
blood? An’ how do I know but you have slunk here 
to finish your job so’s to prevent bein’ took before 
the gran’duror for your rascality? Now, don’t never 
come smilin’ at me with your han’s up ! Your friend- 
ship’s like a bear’s, an’ everybody knows as his hug 


io The Legend of McNutt. 

means death. Don’t think you’ll ever git your clutch- 
es on me ag’in. I’ve had hearin’ enough to be sat- 
isfied you’d steal pewter from a dead nigger’s eyes 
after him sarvin’ you till his death. I’m put to ‘nec- 
essary self-defense.’ ” 

“I know you have, I acknowledge you have, right 
to think me one of the basest of men in America ; but 
when you hear what I have to say you will see that 
I have done just as you should under the same cir- 
cumstances, and I know that if I were in your place 
I’d do as you have, or maybe worse. Be still and 
let me tell you all ! You can’t afford to ‘draw my blood 
in anger,’ for you’ll see, after it’s too late, that all your 
hasty conclusions are entirely unfounded.” 

“Well, tell on then,” stubbornly replied the other, 
vehemently setting his gun between his feet; “but 
don’t come a step this way, or I’ll let a light hole 
through your skulkin’ carcass. D’you hear?” 

“O, don’t speak like that, Daniel, because you’ll 
regret it before I have finished clearing myself !” 

“Clearin’ yourself ! Now you’d no use cornin’ ’bout 
me talkin’ of clearin’ of yourself when I saw you 
float off down the Sun Flower River on my raft, which 
you slipped onto while me an’ Fletch an’ Sandy was 
out layin’ in venison an’ bear for the trip. An’ be- 
sides, they saw you too, if they was behind. You’ll 
have three as good as ever pulled a flint-an’-steel to 
kill, or you’ll go to Jackson for this breach, mind if 
you don’t!” 

“But listen, I say ; I want you to hear what I have 
to say! And first, here is your raft money, every 
cent of it.” So saying, he pitched a roll of bills neatly 
bound up, with “Daniel Pluet” written in bold char- 


II 


The Legend of McNutt. 

acters on the wrapping, and added : “There are nine 
hundred dollars in good, clean, new State bank notes, 
and it is all yours. That is just the amount I received 
for your hundred and fifty logs — much more than we 
received last year, and made the whole trip to New 
Orleans besides — and I only went to Natchez with the 
rafts this trip.” 

“No need to throw your tarnation paper at me, 
thinkin’ to buy my testimony in the courts. I’m not 
one to be bought an’ sold like a coon skin or a mus’rat 
hide, an’ you nee’n’t think it. I reckon you got 
sheered an’ tho’t there mought be a herea’ter in the 
laws, did you ?” 

“No, Dan, no ! Please hear me out, and then heap 
on me all the maledictions you are capable of, and I 
will take it all !” 

“I don’t know nothin’ ’bout your mal-law-diciion- 
ary nor nothin’ like it; but I know you’ll take any- 
thing I’m a min’ to give you, you blackmail, now 
that we are equal number. You know you wouldn’t 
have took off my raft, right before my eyes, if you 
had’n’ve been three to one, an’ not then if I’d’ve 
knowed you’s a min’ to do sich a thing. But go on. 
I’ll hear you through. Then if you don’t make your 
vauntin’ true, I’ll be ready for you, to be sure.” 

“Well, now, I have your word that you will hear 
me through. I know you will, for you have always 
been a man of your word to me,” said the Captain, 
appealing to the manhood of the other, hoping there- 
by to silence him so as to set matters at rights by tell- 
ing that which, if believed, would clear the atmos- 
phere between them. His tact succeeded, and he re- 
lated his story. 


12 The Legend of McNutt. 

“You know when you came to us on the Sun Flower 
that we were just pushing off with the raft. We had 
tied up and gone ashore at moonrise the night before, 
to make it to a salt lick not far out, for the same 
purpose that carried you to land — meat for the trip. 
We knew you were ahead of us, for the signs of your 
raft were plain in many places. While we were all 
out, the rise in the stream broke our moorings, carry- 
ing our raft down. Yours was shifted in the same 
way. When we went down next day, hunting the 
raft, we met old Dick Leggett just above the big bend, 
who informed us of seeing you the previous afternoon 
tying up just below the bend. I knew it was your 
raft you were with, for ours could not have gone so 
far even all night, so that Leggett must have missed 
my raft, it still being in the bend. Just a's we reached 
where the trail comes up to the river below the bend, 
there was the raft just coming into view. The cur- 
rent brought it over against our bank, and we were 
just getting on as you came in sight with the fresh 
meat and gun on your shoulder. Two days later we 
overtook yours in three sections, the lower section 
lodged firmly among willows in an ‘eddy’ and the 
other two caught against it, where they drifted 
around a short turn in the river. We had hard work 
making our raft pass, and two of our men spent a 
day loosing yours and bringing it off, finally catching 
up with me just before we entered the Mississippi, 
by pinning all three sections end and end together, 
thus missing all obstructions, while we hung up twice 
in the Yazoo. 

“I knew my logs the moment I saw them, for they 
were cut last summer in the old Washington break, 


The Legend of McNutt. 13 

and are the largest cypress to be found on the river. 
Crawford sold them to me at reduced price because 
he had to go on his government trip with the sur- 
veyors, and couldn’t float them. The extra length 
made them hang up some, but it paid. I put them 
all in the deal together — my hundred and forty, and 
your hundred and fifty — and my Washington-break 
logs rated the whole lot much better — six dollars a 
log — because the 'Midatlantic Company wanted my 
long logs to ship abroad. 

“Again, I knew my logs, for Nicholas and John, 
my big yellow fellow, raced in rafting them; and 
there was ‘Nick’ marked on the butt of every one he 
put in place, with the marking brush — just plain 
‘Nick/ made with his own hand.” Here the great 
tears streamed to the ground. 

“But, O Dan!” said Captain Janes, with manifest 
emotion, hesitating and gasping for breath, “you 
can’t know how my breast grows heavy and my 
breath short till I tell you that poor Nick will never 
again print his name on the raft logs. The poor boy 
was caught between the rafts and mashed to death 
right before my eyes, and no one could reach him 
to relieve him or do him any good. We just had to 
stand in the ‘tug’ that was making for him and hear 
his pitiful howl of pain, and then see him go down 
as the rafts wrenched apart, just as we were about to 
reach him. It’s awful, Dan’, to think about! He 
sunk because he was torn till his bowels were partly 
out by the jamming of your raft round against mine, 
with a jag of the tie pole sticking out over the side. 
Lord, how I do wish that thing had been cut off — 
then his body would have arisen and could have been 


14 The Legend of McNutt. 

found. But now — hi — its — all over with poor Nick ! 
He died bringing that very raft into bank to sell for 
you which you thought we had stolen.” 

Long before Captain Jane's reached this point in 
the explanation, Mr. Pluet had placed his gun by the 
clay root again, covered the distance between them, 
and was holding the former by the hand, with such 
a grasp as these men both understood meant the 
closest of earthly feeling and brotherhood. At this 
halt in the narrative the great briny tears were cours- 
ing down the cheeks of both, and they stood renewing 
their former strong friendship and brotherly love with 
looks more eloquent than words. 

“Forgive me, Henry,” said Mr. Pluet, “I felt so 
confident that the raft was our’n, that all the words 
ot any other would have failed to change my min’ ! 
An’ O how disappointed I was to think of one so true 
an’ tried, as I tho’t you was, not actin’ square. I am 
disapp’inted in myself now for thinkin’ ’at you could 
be induced to betray a friend, an’ take what w’ant 
your’n.” 

“Of course, Dan, old boy, you have never had a 
better friend than I am. You have done nothing to 
be forgiven, only I’m glad you didn’t draw my blood 
in anger. You know I love you! Why, wouldn’t I 
die for the man who has kept my wife and children, 
standing by them through good and bad even at the 
peril of your own life, poor Nick and the rest, two 
whole years while I fought the British with Old 
Hickory? I knew full well that they were safe with 
you, so far as you could protect them ; for hadn’t we 
talked of it in a very private and confidential manner 
before the arrangements were completed? And 


The Legend of McNutt. 15 

wouldn’t they have set on me and mine without mercy 
or quarter if they could have found us, after they 
knew I had turned what I could to the States, though 
I had come over with the British ? And could I ever 
forget your rescuing Lizzie from the gypsies below 
Natchez when there was much greater probability 
of losing your own life than of saving hers? No, no, 
Dan, if you had listened to me and followed on down 
the Sun Flower, you would have soon overtaken your 
raft, and saved yourself much trouble and feeling.” 

“It’s all my fault, Henry, God forgive me ! If I 
hadn’t been too hasty in cornin’ to a decision, 
maybe the poor boy wouldn’t have met that onnateral 
death,” stammered Mr. Pluet, his face still consid- 
erably wrenched with emotion. “But maybe it’s all 
for the best,” he continued. “The English minister 
an’ the Catholic, both, at Orleans, say whatever comes 
is foreordered by God; an’ if it is, why, ’course its 
all for the best. But for me, it’s not my way of 
b’l’evin’. I can’t help but b’l’eve it was my bad humor 
’at caused all this trouble, an’ maybe if we’d all ‘sub- 
due our passions’ many of the mishaps an’ ills we 
bring ’bout would be pr’vented. But I’ll tell you, 
Henry, I’d jest emptied my last charge of powder at 
the deer, an’ a big black bear’d jest crossed me ’fore 
I came up to you on the raft. I was mad, an’ would’ve 
fit the devil, I would, an’ that temper jest upset me. 
My Lord, how I wish I could get over that flashin’ 
temper! You see it wa's me that disordered it all. 
God didn’t do it, an’ ain’t to blame. I don’t b’l’eve in 
no predest’nation that’ll punish the innocent for the 
guilty. No jest God’ll do sich a thing. Poor, lost, 
Patsy, ’at’s buried right up yander, she could al’ys 


16 The Legend of McNutt. 

hold her temper, for she prayed more’n I do. She 
was better’n me.” 

“No, Dan, I think you are correct in your belief, 
but you couldn’t have foreseen what would occur — 
who can? So don’t lay so 1 much blame on yourself, 
though your passions did get the lead of you that 
time ; and we’ll both take a lesson from this, and try 
and console ourselves with the thought of meeting 
with Nick and the rest by and by.” 

Seeing that there was to be a long conversation 
between them, Mr. Pluet said : “Here, night is on. 
We needn’t be here longer.” 

Just then Captain Janes stooped and gathered up 
Mr. Pluet’s bundle of money and put it in his hand. 
“Your camp must be near, or you wouldn’t have been 
fishing so late. Isn’t this Red Elm Lake we’re on ?” 

“Yes, come, an’ we’ll go up an’ tell Fletch and 
Sandy all, an’ you’ll be the welcomest guest that ever 
come to our lodgin’.” 

But just then Sandy stepped from behind the clay 
root, where he had stood for full a quarter of an hour 
listening to what passed. 

“Hello, Sandy, you here? Why what brought you 
back, my man?” 

“I jes he-a-r-d you talkin’ in dat loud way, an’ I 
know’d som’n’ was wrong, an’ I jes corned to he’p you. 
Den when I got here you had de gun on Mars Hen- 
ry, an’ I jes stop’d here hin’ dis root to be ready did 
you need me. But now’s you an’ Mars Henry’s good 
frien’s ergin dis ol’ nigger mighty glad — eh he — he — 
he! Mars Henry would you shake han’s wid dis ol’ 
darky?” So saying Sandy meekly approached with 
his hat, once worn by his master, but now sleek and 


i7 


The Legend of McNutt. 

torn, under his arm. There was a sad, pleased look 
in his half-smiling face. “Fs pow’ful sorry T)out dat 
tragible death, cause dar want no better boys no- 
whar dan Mars Nick and Fletch.” 

“God bless you, Sandy !” exclaimed Captain Janes, 
as he grasped the negro’s hand. “Few men of any 
race have proven more true and trustworthy than 
you.” 

Sandy hastened to gather up the fish, tackle, and 
gun, and hurried ahead, leaving the gentlemen to 
pursue their journey to the camp together. As they 
walked, Mr. Pluet endeavored to induce his com- 
panion to receive the extra profits from the raft as 
his just dues for the trouble of selling it. “You 
know,” said he, “that it is your’n by rights, an’ I 
have a clear conscience on never taking anything an’ 
appropriatin’ it to myself that justly b’longs to anoth- 
er.” 

But he positively refused to accept any part of the 
money, saying : “It has been my whole intention since 
Nick’s death to bring it to you and see for myself 
that you were correctly informed about the raft. Had 
he lived, I should have sent him with it to you.” 

By the time they reached the camp supper (accord- 
ing to the common expression in all the South at that 
period) was ready, Sandy and Fletcher being in 
waiting. Their conversation had turned to a subject 
on which they usually talked much when to them- 
selves. 

“There, Daniel, is a fitting memento of the happy 
turn of affairs this evening,” and the Captain pre- 
sented him a neat gold pin, ornamented with square 
and compasses. 

2 


CHAPTER III. 


When bans of fortune, caste, and state 
Against a shattered house array, 

Conspiring laws and grinding fate 
And ends of Providence delay, 

’Tis noble then to break the net 
And build for weal or woe again. 

The hero cannot sit and fret; 

But braves, for honor, toil and pain. 

— The Author. 

Had not Sandy preceded them to the hut and 
somewhat prepared Fletcher, he would doubtless have 
either concluded hli's father crazy or his companion 
a specter, when he beheld them approaching together 
in seeming obilvion of the past, save the evidences of 
emotion that marked their cheeks in tear traces on 
both their partly smoked and soiled faces. 

He came forward, however, at the beckon of his 
father, and received a brief and hasty recount of the 
events we have recorded about the raft and the death 
of Nicholas, with wide-mouthed astonishment min- 
gled with grief. His lips were quivering, his counte- 
nanced blanched, and his appetite gone when they re- 
paired to the supper, spread on the bottom of an old 
inverted dugout ju'st inside and on the right of the 
door, at Sandy’s *‘Come on, Mars Dan, an’ you alls, 
cause de steak an’ fish gwyner git col’ ef you don’t.” 

The lodge was a pole hut about sixteen feet square, 
of semidecayed saplings, thatched with newly cut 
cane which replaced the dried, brittle stems of a for- 
mer roof of the same commodity. The hut was not 


The Legend of McMutt. 19 

so much decayed from age as from inoccupancy, for 
it had been only about twelve years since Mr. Pluet 
had landed there, and, with the aid of the ever-faith - 
ful Sandy, hastily thrown it together in the dense ' 
canebrake. It was constructed of small trees cut 
along the brink of the lake, as such could not be 
found out in the great forest except in slight openings 
where they were not overshadowed entirely by the 
huger trees monopolizing all the ground. The roof 
was thatched in only two sections, making a kind 
of comb in the center with the interwoven and cross- 
layed buts of cane, the smaller ends extending far 
over the eves, even to the ground in some instances. 

It was then turned over to two faithful women, whose 
busy hands made it comfortable and tentatively habi- 
table for the season then on — September. By winter 
he and Sandy had built a stick-and-clay chimney run- 
ning nearly the half of one end of the house. 

Thus Daniel Pluet sheltered his own family, consist- 
ing of himself, wife, and son, and his newly undertaken 
charges. These consisted of Mrs. Sarah Janes, Nich- 
olas, her son, a sprightly lad of eight, and her four- 
year-old daughter, Lizzie. These lived together 
here for near two years, as will be seen from the 
further pursuance of this narrative, in tolerable com- 
fort ; but now it was but a skeleton of its former ap- 
pearance until completely renovated by the return of 
some of its former occupants. 

The old “rib-poles” had rotted with the decaying 
thatch lying across them during the ten years it had 
remained unoccupied, so that the entire roof — poles 
and all — must be substituted with new material. This 
Consumed only a part of the first day, the three men 


20 The Legend of McNutt. 

laboring together. The walls were found in a fair 
state of preservation, having been cut in late summer, 
after the sap had declined, and sufficiently hardened 
by summer again to resist worms and weather. In 
this recently overhauled state, sheltered on three 
sides by tall cane and undergrowth, and a tall, spread- 
ing red elm sweeping far over its crest as a kind of 
natural double roof to break off the night atmosphere, 
our campers were not uncomfortably housed. 

At the supper table Fletcher Pluet, by force of 
circumstances, became the center of interest. He 
was a rough-looking, gawky young man in his rafts- 
man and hunter apparel. Stout of build, and fully 
five feet ten, he was every inch a physical man, 
erect and manly in his bearing, at twenty. Of ruddy 
brown complexion with stiff bristly hair that curled 
naturally ; and, as it was the custom in those days to 
wear the hair as long as to the shoulders, his stood 
out about his head in a cluster of sunburned light- 
brown. Deep concern was plainly depicted on his 
expressive face. The clear brown eye, thin but firm- 
ly drawn lips, aquiline nose over a square chin, not 
too prominent, and a fine row of shell white teeth set- 
ting off a physiognomy of classic Grecian type, with the 
added mark of endurance and determination, gave 
him a typical Semitic expression. He inherited much 
of his natural presentableness, not easily framed into 
words, from his mother, who had been a beautiful 
specimen of French Huguenot and a brunette. His 
hair and high broad forehead he took from his father, 
a Scotch German, whose parents had come down 
from New York State to Walnut Hills to accept a 
civil appointment under the French government. 


21 


The Legend of McNutt. 

The company had not more than settled them- 
selves properly at the supper table when Fletcher 
began to force out, between the effort to clear up 
his usually strong voice and blowing the superfluity 
of moisture from his nostrils, the following hesitating 
interrogations : “Did Nick send us any word? Poor 
fellow ! I wonder if he ever suspected what I thought 
of his actions in taking the logs, after his learning 
that I didn’t want him to take his sister Lizzie by that 
ship to New York? Did he know that I intended to 
go to New York myself if they did? But he didn’t 
know I thought he plotted to steal away our logs just 
to keep me from being able to follow Lizzie. But I 
did think it of him, though I’m sorry now. But Nick 
used to just as soon Lizzie would be with me as with 
himself. And if we’d have made a safe and profitable 
lodge of our raft, I fully intended to volunteer to take 
her by shipboard myself.” The last sentence was 
somewhat equivocal, but the older men were too busy 
eating and thinking of Nick to appear to notice its 
form. 

“No, Fletcher,” replied Captain Janes, “Nick never 
dreamed of mistreating you. And in fact we didn’t 
think of sending Lizzie away on any one’s account. 
She was to go to New York at the suggestion of the 
pastor at Natchez and on the advice of Dan here for 
her schooling, though she has had about as good op- 
portunities as many in old England at her age, for 
she attended school both at Natchez and New Or- 
leans during the last nine years. And now that Nick 
is gone, and the season so far advanced, she will not 
make the voyage before late summer, to be ready to 
take up at the beginning of the next term.” 


22 The Legend of McNutt. 

“Where is she, then? In New Orleans yet, or at 
Natchez ?” 

“Neither. She was up at Natchez to see me and 
Nick as we came down with the raft. I wrote her 
some weeks ago to come up about May, and we’d 
arrange to get her off. But she came up here with 
me; for she said that after Nick’s death she knew I 
would be lonely and so would she, and before she 
would leave me now she would give up her plans of 
going to New York altogether. She was really never 
much struck with the idea at first, and she thinks she 
can be of help as it is by teaching beginners. Lizzie 
is much changed too, of late. She doesn’t care any- 
thing for the fashions and ball's now since she at- 
tended a great revival last summer and the Metho- 
dists at Natchez got her into the Church.” 

“Well, where did you leave her, then, or h)ow did 
it happen that she left you, after saying she wouldn’t ?” 

- As Fletcher asked this question he feared he dis- "• 
covered an anxious expression steal over Captain 
Janes’s face, and he continued with manifest concern : 
“Have you lost her in the forest? Why isn’t she 
here with you ?” 

“She is out at the river with the boatman’s family. 
She engaged with them as governess for their chil- 
dren as we came up, and I left her with them below 
the forks of the Yazoo. There I heard from some 
trappers that you were seen to start up this way, up 
the old trail that leads to the Mississippi by Bolivar’s, 
so I just quit the river and set out to come to this 
lake, or that one you named ‘Henry,’ for me, Dan,” 
this last to Mr. Pluet. 


The Legend of McNutt. 23 

“Not me, but your good wife named it, and I al’ys 
called it that.” 

“Then let it forever be called so. But if I missed 
you this way, I intended to return by the trail you 
cut in T 3 to Cottonwood Bend, where the boatman 
promised to wait for me.” 

“Dar now, Mars’ Fletcher, did’n’ I tor you dat look 
like young Mistuss I saw wid de boat peoples? She 
nuver seed me do, or she’d er knowed me for certain. 
Course she would !” broke in Sandy, “but I’s so on- 
expectin’ to see her, do, cause da said she was gwyin’ 
’way on de ship, dat I did’n’ pay no ’tenti'on to her 
much ’tall.” 

“Well, Henry, how long have you been trailin’ us? 
You say you left them below, in the Yazoo ?” 

“Yes, but not far below. The boat stopped three 
nights ago at the trappers’ camp, and I struck your 
trail next morning not long after you left camp, for 
I saw where you slept. I followed very well till I 
struck where you dug the boat out of the dead cy- 
press. I found considerable fresh blood there, and 
was in doubt whether you had killed game or cut 
your foot, some of you ; but on looking about I found 
your bear’s head and paunches. There I rested an 
hour and meditated. I was in doubt which direction 
to go to find this old lodging, for you know I came 
to the place long ago from the Bend ; and the push off 
of your dugout left me no clue as to whether you 
were up the brake or down the lake. Finally I heard 
the rifle report, and made the best of my way in this 
direction, knowing the old stand was here some- 
where.” 

“And so Lizzie’s at the river, only twelve miles away 1 


24 The Legend of McNutt. 

How long do they expect to remain at Cottonwood 
Bend ?” said Fletcher, brightening up for the moment, 
as his grief at the thought of Nick’s unnatural and un- 
timely death was lost in the prospect of a possible 
meeting with Nick’s sister. “I would rather see her 
than anybody else on earth, now that Nick’s gone.” 

From this equivocal remark one would wonder 
whether Fletcher was relieved by Nick’s death, since 
his presence would have possibly interposed a barrier 
between the other two, or that he sought in her the 
companionship he had forever lost in her brother’s 
death. 

“They may stop there a month, so far as I know; 
but certainly they will not return without hearing 
from me,” the Captain replied. “Lizzie bade me a 
caressing adieu, and got my promise to come to them 
as soon as I could satisfy myself about you ; then the 
boatman is a good man and true, which I could 
know in the dark as well as in the day, and I have 
his promise not to ship under a month without me. 
Besides, they have a good cargo of stuff, and it now 
depends upon how soon the squatters thereabout 
learn that the boat is up as to how long they will have 
to remain.” 

The supper of fine venison steak, bream, wild 
onions, and hot corn bread, with tea, was now about 
over. The tea had been handed out by Captain Janes, 
who said it was of excellent quality and that he had 
taken to carrying tea with him on his trips of late ; 
it had been hastily prepared by Sandy as the others 
ate, and was now a finishing luxury served in cocoa- 
nut shells and sawn gourds, which latter Sandy found 
in and around the old cabin — having volunteered and 


25 


The Legend of McNutt. 

come to maturity from year to year as a perennial 
memorial of the frugality of the former ladies of the 
habitation. 

“Dese is de sweet gou’ds what Miss Patsy an’ Miss 
Sa’ planted here mighty long time ago, Mars Henry. 
Da wont make your mouf bitter cause I cut’m an’ 
cleant’m out good to-day jes for drinkin’ gou’ds for 
de table,” said Sandy, and the gourds brought up a 
train of meditation that seemed simultaneously to 
possess all three of the white men during the con- 
tinuance of the tea-sipping. As for Fletcher, his 
train of thought could not so safely be vouched for, 
as he had not yet reached the age when men begin 
to live much in the past ; but the other two were evi- 
dently thinking of the same theme, as was shown when 
the conversation was opened by Captain Janes : “Well, 
Daniel, we are not far from where you laid your 
faithful, heroic wife by the side of Sarah ten years 
ago now. Have you been to the graves ?” 

“O yes, an’ I was jest thinkin’ ’bout ’em when you 
spoke. You are not mor’n two hundred yards from 
the spot, Janes, though the switch cane’s growed 
over it so’t I could hardly have come across it if I 
hadn’t’ve put them under the big red elm on a pur- 
pose. I set thar two hours this mornin’ an’ tho’t 
it all over. What times we had in ’14 an’ ’15 ! Them 
was squally times, I tell you, Henry; an’ I begin to 
feel old a’ter goin’ through it all, though I’m no 
mor’n forty-five.” 

“You had much hardship, no doubt ; for, though you 
have never given me the whole matter through, the 
children recollected much of the affair, and, having the 
outline from you, I could the better understand them. 


26 The Legend of McNutt. 

And when I told Lizzie I should likely visit the place 
before I saw her again she almost cried to come 
through with me, saying she wasn't afraid of the 
‘headless Indian' now as she used to be." 

“De Law’d 'a' massy, Mars Henry, I's glad you 
did’n' brung 'er, cause I knows she would er been 
skeered in dese woods. An’ I’s jes as feard er dat 
dead Injun's I kin be what Miss Sa’ seed so much 
in her dreams when she wus so sick 'fore she died. 
It makes my flesh crawl an’ my hair stan’ up when 
I’s out in de dark. Do course 'tain’t nothin’ now 
lack it was den, it’s been so long ago.’’ 

This from Sandy brought a little of Fletcher’s usual 
mirth to the brim. “I’d like to see your hair stand up, 
Sandy. I’d think ’twould take one of Red Elm’s 
skirmishes with a panther to straighten out your hair, 
with his claws in your head at that." 

The negro put on one of his good-natured grins, 
while all joined in a snatch of subdued merriment at 
his expense ; but matters were too touching for much 
laughter. 

The reader ought to be made acquainted with the 
happenings of the eventful two years suggested in 
the preceding dialogue, as they bear particularly on 
the lives and characteristics of the parties already in- 
troduced in this sketch, and vitally enter into their 
future, in more ways than one ; but it will require 
some time and patience to relate them, and we will 
have to leave the present thread of the story to be 
taken up again when we can better appreciate the 
situation. 

It was early in 1813 when a shipload of British 
soldiers landed at Lake Bourne. Among them was 


The Legend of McNutt. 27 

Captain Janes, who was allowed to bring his family 
with him on the transport, with the understanding that 
he was to settle with them in the British West Indies 
after the end of the war then being waged between the 
United States and Great Britain. The Captain’s im- 
pressions of this country and its prospects, added to 
his love of liberty and justice, decided him to at once 
adopt America as hi's future home, and to push off 
in a cross-country course to the northwest for Natch- 
ez, guided by a band of Indians friendly to the Amer- 
ican cause, in company with some half dozen others 
of the inhabitants of the coast country, seeking a 
command in which to enlist as volunteers in the Amer- 
ican army. 

In this memorable interior excursion his beautiful 
young wife unhappily attracted to herself the devo- 
tions of one of the band of semicivilized Indians. 
The band were said to be the remainder of one of 
the tribes of the once populous but now dispersed 
Natchez Nation, that had been driven from their old 
home and familiar haunts by the French and Span- 
iards, as they alternately controlled and relinquished 
the government of that vast territory ceded to the 
United States by Emperor Napoleon in 1803, usually 
designated the Louisiana Purchase. Mrs. Janes was 
conscious of the infatuation of the Indian, but thought 
the matter would end when she told him she was 
married and that if Captain Janes knew of his over- 
tures he would kill him at once, and threatened that 
if he troubled her again she would inform her hus- 
band. 

The Indian left off molesting her for a space. The 
circumstances were such as to intimidate him at the 


28 The Legend of McNutt. 

time. The band consisted of only four — an old couple, 
a lad of theirs, and this one mentioned as being en- 
amored of Mrs. Janes, “Red Elm” by name. They 
were not of sufficient numbers to defend themselves. 
So many of their tribe and race had been killed that 
the nation now rendezvoused on the Ouachita River 
in Arkansas, and they were unable to form a com- 
pany and volunteer to the United States authorities, 
and, in fact, were doubtful of their reception at the 
hands of “Old Hickory” after the reports of the Creek 
and Seminole wars. Thus they felt at the mercy of 
their white friends. But Red Elm was in eyeshot of 
the Pluet residence in Natchez when Mr. Pluet took 
charge of Capt. Janes’s family; and, with his own, set 
off for the upper country, leaving the dilapidated old 
house and half section of land till the war should be 
over and the danger from British gunboats removed. 
And the Indian saw all that transpired thereabout. 

Red Elm was a well-built typical Natchez Indian of 
thirty-five years. He claimed to be a chief in his tribe 
without an opportunity in war to win his proper dis- 
tinction. He had gained his title of Red Elm by his 
tough fiber in withstanding a severe attack of the 
virulent fever that so infested the Big Black as to 
merit for it the significant sobriquet “River of 
Death,” and for being reputed to have overcome and 
killed a large brindle panther in a fierce combat, with 
no other weapon than a hunting knife. He was se- 
cluded near the Pluet home under a bower of musca- 
dine vines, grown over a red haw bush, immediately 
be&ide the path by which the women of the htouse 
sometimes walked out for recreation. He had taken 
that position with the sole purpose in view of captur- 


The Legend of McNutt. 29 

ing Mrs. Janes and fleeing with her to the tribe ren- 
dezvous on the Ouachita, should she venture out for 
a walk alone, as she was sometimes seen to do; but 
he failed in his designs. 

Mrs. Janes was a beautiful English blonde, with 
gray eyes, clear skin, and high, full forehead. She 
had a beautiful figure, of delicate mold, slightly above 
medium height, the very impersonation of grace and 
symmetry. She was well-bred and refined in manners, 
and withal reserved in disposition, but possessed a 
heroic spirit. Her motive in braving the West with 
her husband wa's the inspiration of building such a 
home and family name for themselves in America as 
that through which she had descended, thinking to 
regain, amidst the fabulous resources of the West 
Indies, the blessings of a shattered fortune. Similar 
motives actuated her husband, for they were happily 
one in all their family matters. 

She married him, a poor army captain, not for 
wealth or name, but, much against the aristocratic 
predilections of her family, for these sterling, virile 
qualities of mind cognate to her own. Henry Janes’s 
family estate had been woefully squandered by the 
profligacy of an older brother during his minority; 
and, rather than disgrace and break up the family re- 
spectability, he took to the army in hopes of finding 
an opportunity of mending his impaired fortunes. 
The war of 1812 brought, as they thought, the pros- 
pect within the range of probability. 

His was a sturdy, never-despairing nature. Phys- 
ically he was well-developed and unabused. He al- 
ways maintained his manliness and self-control, be- 
lieving in the providence of a well-ordered existence. 


30 The Legend of McNutt. 

Standing even six feet in height, clean-shaven, save a 
fashionable black mustache, black hair, expressive 
countenance, well punctuated with a clean black eye, 
thick but well-proportioned nose, and chin of like de- 
scription, his personal appearance flattered the taste 
and emphasized the affection of his sensible bride. 
They married when he was twenty-four and she was 
twenty. At their parting in the Pluet home they were 
thirty-three and twenty-nine respectively. 

This parting was to be of indefinite length. Cap- 
tain Janes well knew that nothing definite nor profitable 
could be accomplished until the war was ended ; and, 
having taken the oath of allegiance to the United 
States, he accepted a commission as captain of a 
company of Natchez volunteers, and prepared, after 
a few weeks’ drilling and discipline, to join General 
Jackson’s army en route to New Orleans to meet the 
British. It will be seen that in his new relations Cap- 
tain Janes was neither a traitor to the mother coun- 
try nor deserter from the army. His leave-taking 
of his original comrades was of the m'ost affecting 
nature, after a due and formal resignation of his com- 
mand. 

Now that his arm of protection was to be with- 
drawn for a time from his family, through the ear- 
nest solicitation of many of the citizens and volun- 
teers at Natchez, who had gained a hold on him and 
influence with him through certain brotherly and 
friendly relations that had existed among them from 
their early acquaintance, he committed their safe-keep- 
ing confidently to Mr. Daniel Pluet upon very much 
the same grounds. For on account of these friendly 
^nd brotherly relations, Mr. Pluet and his good wife, 


The Legend of McNutt. 31 

Cleopatra, had hospitably opened their home for the 
leception of the Janeses, and for no less reason Mr. 
Pluet had run the gantlet, with his own life at stake, 
in rescuing little four-year-old Elizabeth Janes from 
a band of floating gypsies that had landed at Natchez 
to trade and “tell fortunes.” They had been induced 
to kidnap the beautiful child by rumors, whi'spered in 
the community, that the Janeses were wealthy aris- 
tocrats from England, hoping to secure a liberal ran- 
som for her return. 


CHAPTER IV. 


Pleasant it was, when woods were green 
And winds were soft and low, 

To lie amid some sylvan scene, 

Where, the long, drooping boughs between, 
Shadows dark and sunlight sheen 
Alternate come and go; 

Or where the denser grove receives 
No sunlight from above, 

But the dark foliage interweaves 
In one unbroken roof of leaves, 

Underneath whose sloping eaves 
The shadows hardly move. — Longfellow . 

Mr. Pluet formed a particularly fond attachment 
for this child, because she came into his home only 
a few months after they had laid away, in the new 
cemetery at Spring Hill, their own little girl, Bessie, 
and he ever afterwards looked upon her as nearly or 
quite as near to him as if a member of his own family. 

The kidnaping was on this wise : After the gypsies 
moved their boat off down the river, as if they had 
taken final leave of the place, and allowed two or three 
days to elapse so as to be unsuspected, the kidnaper 
stole back to the vicinity of the Pluet home, snatched 
the child from the path as she with her brother and 
Fletcher were out for a morning walk, and hurried 
away from the same clump of vines in which the In- 
dian secluded himself on the morning already men- 
tioned. It was this incident that pointed it out to 
Red Elm as strategical and it was doubtless this same 
fact that rendered the women and children wary of 


The Legend of McNutt. 33 

the place, and defeated his hopes in securing Mrs. 
Janes. 

When the child was stolen she was walking hand 
in hand between her two youthful protectors. The 
boys fought manfully for her, but were too small to 
accomplish more than to recognize her captor as the 
old gypsy man, the husband of the fortune teller, 
whom they had seen at the boat on afternoons when 
Captain Janes took them for a sail on the river or a 
stroll on its banks. Their cries aroused the occupants 
of the house, who came to their rescue only in time 
to overtake the boys and prevent them from being 
lost, for they were racing away in pursuit of their an- 
tagonist. The little girl and her captor were ere this 
hidden from view in the dense jungle that surrounded 
the estate. 

Mr. Pluet led the pursuit and directed the course 
of his assistants. The crafty kidnaper left in an op- 
posite direction from where the boat really lay, but 
Mr. Pluet had been out for squirrels on the day of 
the gypsies’ departure, and, coming in late, had seen 
them floating leisurely down. He first rescued the 
boys and took them back to the path, when their moth- 
ers came up, breathless almost, and frightened nearly 
out of their wits for fear some wild animal had set 
upon their children. Mr. Pluet gathered from the 
boys’ sobbing words that they recognized the old 
gypsy; and, leaving the boys to return with their 
mothers, he ran by the house for his rifle and started 
others in pursuit, while he took a course along the 
river, intending to find the boat and so station himself 
as to intercept the retreat of the gypsy. Sandy gath- 
ered his horn and hounds on his return late in the 
3 


34 The Legend of McNutt. 

morning from an errand into the country. Captain 
Janes had formed two squads of his most experienced 
woodsmen, when the news reached him at the drill 
grounds, and instituted a close search, distributing 
the remainder of his men along the river far up and 
down, giving them strict charge to see that none 
pass nor repass without notice. The Captain’s chase 
was a fruitless one, for it was a dry spring and there 
were few places where the foot would make an im- 
pression. Sandy and his hounds were late in suc- 
ceeding in striking the trail — first, because the trail 
had, as huntsman say, gotten cold; and secondly, be- 
cause the dogs were not trained to run men. The 
negro struck the correct route more from instinct 
than from the help of the dogs, but occasionally they 
would yelp along as if they knew what he was about, 
and by his whoops he encouraged them. 

By midday Mr. Pluet was well tired, and seated 
himself near the river in an open which extended far 
out into the forest. It was a glade where only the 
tall trees and a few green briers and switch cane grew 
along a ravine that emptied into the river near by 
where he sat. He was secluded by a large log lying 
along by the side of two great trees standing not far 
apart, the bushes and reeds completing his hiding. 
Here he could watch both the river and the woods 
without being easily seen himself, and he sat resting 
and mincing haws from some bushes he had broken 
by the way. Mr. Pluet sat still for an hour, quietly 
and leisurely turning his eyes from the river to the 
woods and back again. He was certain the boat was 
not many miles down and on the east side of the 
river, as from it the man must start on his errand, and 


35 


The Legend of McNutt. 

lie reasonably supposed intended to regain it before 
he was overtaken. As Mr. Pluet sat thus still the 
usual hour of his afternoon nap approached ; and, 
strange as it may seem, from mere force of habit, ere 
he was aware, he fell into a deep sleep. 

He awoke with a start and gazed about to reassure 
himself, when, glancing across the river, he saw that the 
sun was not over an hour above the horizon. Then, 
with his first sound consciousness, the fact of his er- 
rand dawned upon him and he scanned the river again 
for the boat. As his gaze turned southward and 
hugged close to the east shore with vigilant scrutiny, 
he was about to withdraw his search from the surface 
of the water when something unusual attracted him. 
Half a mile below he espied a red garment the gypsy 
woman had hung out to dry on the west end of the 
boat, lying in a small cove close under a high bluff, 
not far below the mouth of the ravine. Without this 
red garment the end of the boat had blended with the 
caving bluff ; and, owing to the tops of willows grow- 
ing about the mouth of the ravine, it was completely 
deceptive and would hardly have been discovered but for 
the garment hung out to sun. On hastily glancing 
about to take in the situation, he caught sight of 
three persons out in the forest, just emerging from the 
switch cane along the brink of the ravine, full a quar- 
ter of a mile from where he sat. These he at once 
recognized as the remaining trio belonging to the 
gypsy family — the old fortune teller, a well-grown 
lad of seventeen, and a young woman, quite grown, 
presumably the son and daughter of the older couple. 

Mr. Pluet watched them in silence until he saw 
them take up their position partially concealed by 


36 The Legend of McNutt. 

vines and brambles and looking earnestly northward 
in the direction of the village, evidently awaiting the 
return of the husband and father. Their anxiety 
seemed to be intensified by the noise of horn and 
hounds, which they heard far up the ravine. Mr. 
Pluet knew this to be Sandy’s Worn and the hounds 
to be his game pack; but thought they were either 
running deer, or the negro certainly would cease 
sounding his horn, as this only warned the pursued 
of his whereabouts ; but the genuine African hasn’t 
the cunning of any of the other races of men. It had 
been so long since a deer had been killed about the 
rapidly growing Natchez that Mr. Pluet was in doubt 
as to the real object of Sandy’s chase. 

The happy thought now possessed Mr. Pluet th~t 
his chance was to gain possession of the boat before 
the gypsies returned, and hold it on condition that 
the child be delivered safe to him. He quietly with- 
drew down the river bank, and made his way care- 
fully along the water’s edge to the mouth of the ra- 
vine. Here he found a crossing hastily improvised 
by the old gypsy as he passed up the night before, 
plainly to be concluded from the well-dried tracks 
of a grown man, while the fresh tracks were of the 
three just seen out in the forest. This cro. sing he 
left intact, taking care to tiptoe in the old dried tracks 
to avoid suspicion of his presence in the neighbor- 
hood till lie should decide fully upon the tactics he 
could best employ. The boat was found chained se- 
curely to a post well driven down. He couldn’t break 
the chain with anything in sight without giving an 
alarm. 

The first conclusion was to quietly await their return 


The Legend of McNutt. 37 

and then demand the child at the muzzle of his gun ; but 
lie decided that the old man and child might not be 
in the company when they did return, and that the 
gypsy might purposely remain secluded on shore un- 
til the others reconnoitered the boat, and so he would 
lose the prize. Then the thought came to secrete 
himself and await their return, and if the chance pre- 
sented to capture the crew, boat and all ; if not, to 
spring from his hiding and flee with the child at the 
first opportunity. He pushed at the door of the slen- 
der craft, and it yielded. On entering he found the two 
rooms uninhabited, as he expected, but with every- 
thing arranged as if they who dwelt there intended to 
return soon. The evening meal with but little more 
to be added to it was arranged on a small table in the 
back room, and covered with a cloth of Irish linen. 
Portions of this repast Mr. Pluet hastily wrapped in 
a napkin of red Turkish he saw spread over a stool 
back and took up his position where he doukl watch 
the approach of the party, if perchance they returned 
before nightfall. 

The hounds were coming nearer, and Sandy had 
ceased to sound his horn. From an occasional faint 
whoop, Mr. Pluet decided the boy must be in hot 
pursuit of his deer, and was about decided to run up 
the ravine and take an old “deer stand” in hope of 
getting a shot, when he saw the quartet of gypsies 
approaching rapidly and heard them calling one to 
another to hasten to the boat or they would be over- 
taken. Then it dawned upon him that the hounds 
were running the trail of the old gypsy, though he 
had never known them to run a human before. Not 
being certain of this, he couldn’t quickly decide upon 


38 The Legend of McNutt. 

a plan of action ; but the pursued were now so close 
to the boat that something must be done or all would 
be lost. Seeing that the child Elizabeth was carried 
in advance by the young woman, who had relieved 
her tired father, Mr. Pluet thought to appear at the 
door at the proper time and wrench the child from 
her; but, dimly through the narrow crevice he was 
using for his hiding-peep, he saw, to his wonder and in 
his haste, that all except the young woman were well 
armed, and saw that the odds were against him, should 
he undertake a bluff game with only one fowling piece, 
or undertake flight before them. They were all 
threading along the narrow shingle by the water’s 
edge under the precipitous bluff bank, the old man 
far back to the rear. This latter was to be under- 
stood from the fact that he halted at the ravine to 
rembve the flimsy crossing. Not being well ac- 
quainted with the habits of dogs, the old gypsy seemed 
to think he had them cut off, and so plodded along 
with weary step, heedless of the frantic warnings of 
his faithful old wife. In the emergency, Mr. Pluet 
decided to hide himself under the only rude bed- 
stead in the boat. He found it scarcely tall enough to 
admit him underneath, being so low as to hinder any 
quick movement that might be necessary in escaping 
with the child; nevertheless it was his only alterna- 
tive. 

When the women entered the room the men were 
heard in agitated consultation outside. Soon chains 
began to clink, and Mir. Pluet knew they were pre- 
paring to push off. A moment later, as they took up the 
narrow stage plank and dropped it with a thud on 
the bow, two of the hounds began to yelp at the 


The Legend of McNutt. 39 

water’s edge, and Sandy was heard, at the ravine a 
hundred yards away, to utter one of his keen exultant 
yells, so common with him when he knew his dogs 
had “treed,” as hunters say when game is brought to 
a stand or driven to a retreat. Mr. Pluet wondered 
why the old gypsy and his son did not shoot the dogs ; 
but just then he heared something “spank” against 
the bank as one of the hounds howled. The old 
gypsy was swearing at the dogs and negro and threat- 
ening to shoot them. 

“Ga’ me anather stack, Tummy. E’ll break thur’ 
nacks fro’ here with ut!” the old man commanded. 
Away whizzed another club, and Mr. Pluet now real- 
ized the nature of the arms they bore, which he hur- 
riedly thought to be guns as they came up. 

Now the old gypsy rushed into the room in which 
Mi. Pluet was hidden, and looked at the head of the 
bed for his gun. It was not there, for the latter had 
taken care to take the gun, with his own, with him 
under the bed. The old man caught up the bedding 
and drew out a long, old-style derringer, and in 
doing so came so near discovering the hidden man’s 
retreat that the hand that grasped the pistol was 
in plain view. Had not the gypsy been so much ex- 
cited and in such great haste, he must surely have 
seen Mr. Pluet. He thought once he was discovered, 
and began to so place his feet to extricate himself, his 
heart jumping fast. 

“Hould thur’, ye black deevil!” shouted the gypsy 
to Sandy as he approached the two dogs. He had 
waded the miry ravine to his waist in the hope of 
defending his dogs, and possibly of capturing the 
gypsy. The former was all the reward he reaped, for 


40 


The Legend of McNutt, 

just as he came up in view the old man’s pistol was 
raised to fire at the leader dog, which was half a mind 
to swim in after the receding boat. 

Sandy raised his gun to his shoulder and exclaimed : 
“Yuh ! You kill dat dog, ’n’ I’ll kill you !” 

This excited the gypsy so that he missed his aim, 
merely cutting the dog’s ear and causing it to set up 
a slight, complaining whine at the crack of the pistol, 
and Sandy thought it was killed. He accordingly 
aimed at the gypsy’s breast and fired. Being frightened, 
the gypsy wheeled and threw up the hand that held 
the pistol just in time to have the weapon knocked 
from his grasp into the stream by the rifle ball as it 
whizzed by, tearing through the front of his round- 
about bodice and grazing the skin of his hand. 

“Pull dat boat to dis sher bank, yer man-stealer 
you !” bawled out Sandy as he hurried another charge 
into his gun. But the old man only ran into the back 
room, where the other members of the excited family 
were, some looking about for the gun, and others 
screaming and wailing. In the flurry of binding up 
the bleeding hand the gun was forgotten and the boat 
allowed to drift. 

Little Lizzie, tired out from crying and struggling 
all day, fell asleep when she found herself in what ap- 
peared to be a human habitation. She was lying on 
the bed under which Mr. Pluet was hiding. Her 
breathing could be heard by him, also an occasional 
snub, or more rarely a low scream as if dreaming of 
her sudden capture in the morning. 

Sandy followed the boat as it drifted sidewise down- 
stream with the prow still toward the east. Once it 
drifted so near the shore that he was ready to swim 


The Legend of McMutt. 41 

in and seize the heavy oars that hung loosely in the 
locks, and pull it to shore; but just then a bend in 
the river shifted the current, and the boat gradually 
but slowly drifted out too far for him to swim. 

Mr. Pluet could see between his feet, by slightly 
moving his head, what was going on in the next room, 
yet he feared to make an effort to secure the child 
lest he should be overpowered ; and he concluded to 
wait till the family were asleep. Thus he planned to 
give the child time for some rest, for he fully intended 
when he should make any move to give full proof 
of his powers, and supposed that then her sleep for the 
night would be at an end. Sandy could be heard on 
shore whistling for his dogs, and now and then shouting 
a command to the boatmen to “pull in,” threatening 
to shoot them if he didn’t. Pretty soon a shot from 
his rifle into the back room window brought the whole 
family in a scramble to the front room. A general 
search for the gun was now instituted, each accusing 
another of misplacing it. Then all hurried back to 
the back room to look there again for the gun, the 
young woman halting in the doorway, while the oth- 
ers proceeded into the room. 

Mr. Pluet’s situation was becoming more and more 
precarious, and he deemed this his opportunity to ex- 
tricate himself from his dangerous hiding and strug- 
gle for the mastery of the situation. Flirting himself 
sidewise and drawing his gun after him, at the same 
time uttering a hoarse growl, he succeeded in free- 
ing himself, and so frightened the young woman as 
he sprang to his feet and presented his gun that she 
fainted and fell backward into the rear room on a 
heap of bedding, where she or the boy, or both, slept 


42 The Legend of McNutt. 

at night. She, of course, had turned on her feet at 
the frightful sound, so that she wa's facing Mr. Pluet 
when she fainted and fell backward into the other 
room. Mr. Pluet rushed to the door and covered the 
family with his rifle. Dismay handicapped them as 
they glanced first at the rifle and then at the swooning 
girl. He was between the group and the sleeping 
child, and was determined to rescue her, whatever in- 
jury he might be forced to inflict or sustain in so doing. 

He commanded the young man to go behind and 
raise the sail so as to run the scow in shore on pain 
of death to the family. The old man he caused to be 
tied hand and foot by his wife, with a ball of stout, 
hemp twine he saw lying on a side shelf. The old 
lady made an effort to cheat by tying a lo'ose knot, 
but thi>s was discovered and she was forced to remedy 
it. When she set about tying his hands she tried 
again to cheat by making a slip knot and leaving an 
end loose which, if pulled, would release him. This 
time Mr. Pluet leveled his gun on her, and she was 
forced to bind it round and round several times and 
Anally to make several close, hard tie knots and bind 
him to a post securely. She was then forced to bind 
her daughter’s hands to the post of the partition wall, 
where she lay half recovering from her swoon; then 
finally to take her seat agains,t the rear wall im- 
mediately in front of the gun. 

By the time this was finished Mr. Pluet noticed 
the boat beginning to veer round and head down- 
stream. He shouted to the young man outside that 
if he didn’t run the boat to shore a ball would be sent 
through his mother’s heart. 

“Sher in, Tummy, ef ye lov’ yer mether, ur the dyvil 


43 


The Legend of McNutt. 

uv a mon’ll kell ma!” pleadingly muttered the half- 
crazed old woman, and in a few moments the west wind 
was pushing the how directly toward the east bank. 

The horror-stricken young woman was now entirely 
awake and recognized their captor. She set up a plea 
for their lives, with much anguish written in her face. 
Mr. Pluet assured them that their lives were safe if they 
offered no resistance to the landing of the boat and 
would release the child to him. To this all agreed, and 
he promised to allow them to proceed downstream 
after he had taken the child back to Natchez, provided 
they would never be seen about the place again. He 
would have dismissed them when they reached shore, 
but he felt too tired to carry the child on foot. 

Sandy still followed downstream and halted the 
moment he saw the boat head for shore, thinking the 
kidnapers had reckoned him returned from the chase. 
When one of his dogs crept out of the underbrush 
against Sandy’s wish and lapped water from the river, 
he supposed the boatman to have spied the dog, and so 
turned downstream; but when the boat headed east 
again he was in doubt what might be the mind of the 
gypsies. 

The moment the prow neared the shore sufficiently 
the negro was on board. He seized the chain and made 
it secure to a sapling. The next instant he was in the 
doorway with his gun presented at his master’s back, 
saying: “Now I’s got yer. De one dat moves fus’ I 
gwyner kill him !” 

Mr. Pluet with a thrill of joy recognized Sandy’s 
voice and turned his head in the negro’s direction as 
he was taking the sleeping child from the bed — the gun 
still drawn threateningly in one hand. 


44 The Legend of McNutt. 

“Well, ’for’ Chris’, ’pon my soul ef dat ain’t Mars 
Dan,” grinned the boy. “De Lawd sabed you f’om dis 
sher gun uv de Cap’n’s, cause I wuz ’bout ter shoot you 
fur de gypsies, ’for’ God! How you git on here? I 
tho’t some’h’n, dis boat floatin’ back to de lan’ ; ’f I’d 
er know’d you’s on boa’d, I’d er jes’ got in an’ swum to 
you, same as dis wuz de gospel ship o’ Zion,” rapidly 
muttered the negro, with a glad but teased expression, 
before he could be answered. 

“Just take that blanket and wrap Lizzie up,” said 
Mr. Pluet, “an’ come an’ stan’ picket while I work the 
thing, Sandy.” 

When the negro took the post, Mr. Pluet went on 
shore and sounded two short, piercing peels and then 
a long shrill note with his hunter’s horn, which sig- 
nified to the half-hunter population triumph in the 
chase and the retreat homeward. On his return to the 
boat lie bound the hands of the whole group of gypsies 
behind them and released them otherwise, and bade them 
take up resting positions in the rear room, with Sandy 
on guard. He now took control of the sailing apparatus 
and headed the boat upstream. The wind, having 
stiffened and shifted from west to south, gave him 
easy and rapid sailing, and he was soon under headway 
northward. 

The first signal of his horn had been answered in the 
manner given, but he was in doubt whether it was from 
a company of searchers or a neighboring “squatter.” 
When he had moved up a mile or more he signaled 
again, and this time was answered by three different 
parties not far distant. Mr. Pluet judged these to be 
the Captain’s scouts, of whom Sandy had informed him, 
and he accordingly drew his craft to land in a graceful 


45 


The Legend of McNutt. 

“round to.” Here they waited and signaled in the 
three approaching deploys of their comrades in the 
early night. The moon was halfway up the eastern 
stairway of heaven, alternately being hidden and re- 
vealed bv the flying scuds of cloud passing rapidly on 
to the north. This playing a hide and seek game with 
light and shadow was the cause of some confusion to 
the benighted woodsmen. 

The first party to arrive at the boat was led by Cap- 
tain Janes, who, when he learned the facts of his 
daughter’s rescue, hastened to embrace her, then knelt 
and thanked God for such a “brotherhood” as bound 
to him so true a friend as Mr. Pluet, and for divine 
providence over his rescued child. He next turned to 
Mr. Pluet, and, after assuring him of his gratitude, thus 
addressed him : “Why in the world didn’t you send the 
tarnation kidnapers away before I found you, Dan?” 
(for so familiarly had they become to address each 
other). “Didn’t you know my blood would boil the 
moment I saw them? My! my! man, where are the 
vagabonds ?” 

“They’re in the rear, Henry, an’ safe tied, an’ ready 
for any vengeance you may see fit to put upon ’em. But 
Pd think you’d be so glad to git the dear chil’ back safe 
you’d be willin’ to let ’em oflf light. Besides, Pm 
voucher to ’em that if they’d not cause me to shed blood 
among ’em, but give up the chil’ ’thout more trouble, 
Pd allow ’em to go on to Orleans unkilled ; an’ as you 
are goin’ down thar with your troopers, you may git a 
chance to give ’em bringes.” 

“No,” said the Captain, who by virtue of his military 
commission was, under the circumstances, rightful cus- 
todian of all miscreants, “no, Pll not wait ; for, once we 


46 The Legend of McNutt. 

are under Old Hickory, not a mother’s son of us will 
have authority to transgress military rule to punish 
even the devil himself, unless he wears a red coat. 
Besides, it was from no good that is in these renegades 
that my child is safe. You and Providence are to be 
praised for her rescue ; but they need punishment, and 
need it now.” 

In the Captain’s remark on General Jackson could 
be discerned two facts : first was his high regard for 
military discipline, and, second, his growing love of 
American liberty and the American cause. He con- 
tinued: “But, Dan, as you are sponsor for the devils, 
I’ll content myself with the whipping post.” Then, ad- 
dressing his soldiers, he said : “So have the blackguards 
out here, my boys, and we will withe them soundly!” 

He then proceeded to a bunch of young hickory 
bushes growing up around the stump of a sapling, 
doubtless felled within recent years by a raftsman to 
tie together his raft, or mayhap for a skiff mast or pike 
pole. 

“Wait, Henry,” said Mr. Pluet to the Captain, re- 
turning with his hands full of limber hickory withes, 
“Wait till we push up to the village, an’ the villagers’ll 
know how an’ why it’s done, an’ the report of the mat- 
ter’ll be a wholesome warning for others who may 
want gold ’thout workin’ for it, d’you see ?” 

“Yes, I think that would be well, but the moment 
those people lay eyes on them we shall have a tug to 
save them alive, and I don’t want to turn the course of 
Providence against us just as we are going out to war 
for our country, Dan. I think, on the whole, we had 
better flog them here.” 

It was apparent that Captain Janes was overanxious 


47 


The Legend of McNutt. 

to begin the punishment, and for once was about to act 
without moderation, for the last sentence was peremp- 
tory and spoken with much feeling. The four were 
being led out by the volunteer soldiers, who had mas- 
tered at least one lesson in tactics — obedience to their 
officer. They were binding the trembling gypsies to 
pecan saplings that grew near at hand. The women 
were pleading their innocence and the men stoutly 
claiming exemption under the terms of the surrender. 

“Surrender!” rejoined Captain Janes. “The shades 
of Neptune! Didn’t this gentleman have you in his 
hands, and didn’t he control you at his will before he 
promised you anything? Then his voucher was only 
to save your lives; not to keep you from the sound 
thumping you every one need. Besides, would you have 
surrendered my child at all without a heavy ransom, 
had he not have outwitted you and got into your hull of 
a craft ahead of you ?” 

“No, Henry, I’m not to git the honor of outwittin’, 
for I was a sluggish soldier, an’ fell asleep on my post 
of duty. But for an all-wise Providence, the gypsies, 
little gal an’ all, would’ve got away. An’ then here 
comes the rest of the boys, an’ I’ll warrant they’ll all 
agree ’ith me ’at it would be too onmilitarylike in you, 
a nobleman-captain, to condemn an’ punish a man ’thout 
a trial. Let’s go back to Natchez, try ’em lawfully, an’, 
if found guilty, let ’em take the penalties of the law.” 

At this point the other two parties arrived from 
nearly the same direction and reached the scene so 
nearly together that they were confused among them- 
selves. They were surprised at the strange procedure 
they beheld against the criminals. Each stoutly pro- 
tested that in all this broad free new territory the 


48 The Legend of McNutt. 

whipping post was unknown, and that they would not 
be a party to setting such a precedent. They said, 
furthermore, that there would be no danger to the lives 
of the gypsies at Natchez unless the offended parties 
wanted them killed for the crime, as most of the men 
who would get on a jury there were men who would 
act in moderation and keep in proper bounds toward 
all mankind. With these and like arguments Captain 
Janes was dissuaded from his punitive plans. 

The congregated chasers now numbered fifteen. 
These, with the six already on board, made out twenty- 
one adults, who with the faithful dogs sailed with the 
sleeping child up to the village. But as the south wind 
had stiffened into a strong breeze this weight was 
requisite to steady sailing. Captain Janes and Mr. 
Pluet sat on the rear of the scow as they sailed to Natch- 
ez, and talked together of matters that had developed 
during the evening’s episode. 

"Well, Henry, you bein’ from the mother country, I 
tho’t you’d understand that here in America we use 
the juror system in tryin’ of crim’nals. No doubt you 
will give this some ’tention.” 

"I know about the system of trial by jury, Dan, or, as 
we have it in England, ‘a man must be tried by his 
peers ;’ but I was going to resolve that thing into a mil- 
itary affair, and pass judgment on them myself.” 

“An’ that ’thout a hearin’? Why, sir, that’s en- 
tirely on-American.” 

“Certainly, without a formal hearing ; but hadn’t you 
given me the facts, and didn’t I know the child was 
stolen, and that they needed killing, every single one of 
them?” 

“Not in open court I hadn’t gi’n you the facts, an’ 


49 


The Legend of McNutt. 

then how could there’ve been a record kept, however 
plain the facts ? An’, however much you might b’lieve 
me on the score ov brotherly love an’ truth, to punish 
’thout a trial’s a crime, while to punish the same party 
under the same charge a’ter a court has set the penalty 
is doin’ God’s service. An’ besides, Henry, though you 
may think so, I’m not sure all these floaters are equally 
guilty. You know they all affirm ’t the women weren’t 
guilty at all, an’ you was ’bout to inflict the same pun- 
ishment on all ’like. Now that ain’t jestice, neither.” 

“No, you are right, that wouldn’t have been justice; 
but you would have seen, if you had but left me alone 
awhile, that I’d have had it put on thick and heavy 
when they came to that old vagabond. And I tell you, 
Dan, if you had been racked out of your life to-day as 
I’ve been, and no doubt my wife also, you might not 
have been so conciliatory.” 

“Wa’n’t I almost in the jaws o’ death for nearly 
’n hour, an’ darsn’t move han’ nor foot ? An’ yet I tell 
you ’twould all’ve been open criminality to’ve beat ’em 
’thout a trial.” 

The close student may see in these two men and 
their discussions some of the elements that have con- 
tributed to the universal interest manifested in Amer- 
ican institutions by every loyal citizen, also the source 
of much of the spirit of lawlessness and anarchy now 
so rife in many quarters, taking now and again the 
heinous form of lynch law. Not every foreigner is so 
fortunate as was Captain Janes in having a well-sea- 
soned citizen friend to guide him in learning the duties 
of citizenship; and many have been far more heedless 
than he was even willing to be, in following their guides. 
Here may be seen also, by the initiated, some of the 
4 


50 


The Legend of McNutt. 

constructive forces at work which have contributed 
much to shaping and strengthening organic society 
even in the primitive stages of American life and devel- 
opment. 

When the company landed in front of Natchez, at 
the hour of eleven, the citizens having been notified by 
the notes of the hunter’s horn, men, women, and the 
larger children were out en masse to get the news and 
incidentally to welcome the return of the stolen child. 

The mother came, feebly trudging along the lane- 
like street, her young and elastic person much weakened 
by the shock and anxiety that so sorely tried her spirits 
consequent upon the abduction of her child. Still un- 
certain of the results, she was very weak and was 
leaning for support, partly on the shoulder of Mrs. 
Pluet on one side, and partly yielding to the proffered 
assistance of the Indian squaw on the other. Thus she 
moved listlessly along toward the boat, half afraid lest 
sad news of her child should reach her ears. 

Red Elm was secretly in waiting even now, to seize 
his idol could the old squaw r succeed in wrenching her 
from the grasp of her friends at the concerted moment. 
The moment came when a low shivering whine as of 
a puppy, cold or in pain, issued from a cluster of small 
cedars at the foot of a gentle declivity; this being the 
preconcerted signal, which was so perfectly executed 
that none of the company of whites suspected the sound 
to be other than it seemed. The old squaw pretended 
to stumble, and partially drew Mrs. Janes down with 
her, thinking thus to release her from Mrs. Pluet’s arm 
coiled about her waist, and then to whirl off with her 
down the declivity into Red Elm’s arms. The artifice 
succeeded in that Mrs. Janes was pulled free of Mrs. 


The Legend of McNutt. 51 

Pluet’s embrace, but so quickly did she regain her hold 
and raise Mrs. Janes to her feet that the situation was 
saved, and the old squaw was left to roll partly down, 
from the mere force of her effort to carry with her the 
intended victim. Red Elm’s keen eye detected the fail- 
ure in time to prevent betraying his presence, but he 
expressed his chagrin in a deep, hoarse growl as of a 
mother dog in defense of her young. The episode 
created no suspicion, but many of the company imag- 
ined the possibility of the sounds being made by 
wolves instead of dogs. This insured Red Elm’s im- 
munity from being discovered. 

On coming to the river they could see the boat ap- 
proaching by moonlight, but could distinguish very lit- 
tle of the conversation carried on by those on board. 
Among the younger members of the returning party 
discussion of the merited punishment was the occasion 
of much loud talking and gesticulation. This some 
of the party on shore, including the child’s mother and 
Mrs. Pluet, misconstrued to be descriptions of the 
death of the stolen child by fright or otherwise, or dis- 
cussions of punishment for the same. 

“O, my poor darling child is dead !” exclaimed the 
half-frenzied mother. “God be merciful ! What sfa V. 
I do ? Henry, my dear husband, what ! O, what has 
become of my child?” She implored in sobs and an- 
guish. 

“Sarah, my dear, don’t be too harsh on them. I 
would have killed them on the spot, but Mr. Pluet here 
dissuaded me until they shall be lawfully tried and 
condemned with what penalty they deserve.” said the 
Captain, little thinking his wife misunderstood the sit- 
uation. But when he looked into her face as he climbed 


52 


The Legend of McNutt. 

higher up the bank he saw that she had swooned. He 
sprang and gathered her to his bosom, at the same time 
asking Mr. Pluet to bring the sleeping child. 

“Here, Sarah, my dear, our babe is safe! Did you 
think we would have come back so soon without 
Lizzie ?” 

At the mention of her own name the child awoke in 
a fitful dream of fright and gazed into its father’s face 
a moment as in terror, then clung with her tender, half- 
bare arms tenaciously about his neck saying with much 
earnestness : “My papa’s a bid soger. He’ll till de mean 
ol’ Turks !” 

When Lizzie spoke thus her mother was partially re- 
stored to consciousness. .She gazed about vacantly then 
gasped : “Thank the good Lord, I have overtaken my 
child ! We have both come home to heaven together ! 
We are done with trouble now, safe in heaven !” 

“Come, Sarah , look here , we are all alive! You are 
mistaken! Don't you see I have you and Lizzie in 
my arms ?” 

“Yes, I see, Henry, you here too. Well, when Nick 
comes, we’ll be safe together. No more wars and 
partings !” 

“No! darling, no! You are not dead. Look here 
at sweet Lizzie. We are all here but Nicholas. Where 
is he, mother, that you didn’t bring him with you ?” 

Ilearing the name of her other child repeated re- 
stored her mind. Just then Lizzie recognized her 
mother and reached for her. She was fondly gathered 
to mother’s breast, and mother and child sobbed and 
kissed each other until they were lifted high on a litter 
quickly improvised, and borne aloft to the Pluet home, 
amid the cheers and songs of the joyous company. Mr. 


The Legend of McNutt. 53 

Pluct was next honored with a ride on the litter, with 
many cheers, then came Sandy’s time for a free ride 
and cheers, so the merrymaking evidenced the rebound 
of depressed spirits from a very heavy weight on the 
community. 

Captain Janes left a sufficient detail to guard the 
prisoners till morning, thus givingthem some practical 
military experience; and repaired to the bosom of his 
family with Mr. Pluet, where one of the faithful local 
preachers in the community led in a service of praise 
and thanksgiving. 

Next morning the gypsies were put on trial, charged 
with manstealing. The two women were acquitted on 
the combined testimony of all four, who unanimously 
averred that the women did all they could to prevent 
the act, but without avail. The men confessed, and im- 
plored the mercy of the court ; whereupon they were 
sentenced to perpetual banishment from the territory 
under an old Spanish law, fined in the sum of twenty 
pounds, and charged with the cost of the court. A 
dealer in Natchez bought their boat, and, by disposing 
of other cumbrous articles in their possession, they 
raised money to pay off their bills and to take passage 
on a flatboat there cn route to New Orleans. 

Thus we early see the cloven foot of lynch law pro- 
truding itself. Let all who hold liberty dear stamp 
upon it as did our w r orthy forefathers. Let us also be 
on the alert to use preventives ere it is too late. Our 
great and growing people must Americanize our citi- 
zen foreigners, or else our beloved America will be for- 
eignized. Which shall be accomplished must be left 
to legendarians of coming centuries to decide. 


CHAPTER V. 


There were communities, scarce known by name 
In these degenerate days, but once far-famed, 

Where liberty and justice, hand in hand, 

Ordered the common weal; where great men grew 
Up to their natural eminence, and none 
Saving the wise, just, eloquent, were great; 

Where power was of God’s gift to whom he gave 
Supremacy of merit, the sole means 
And broad highway to power, that ever then 
Was meritoriously adminstered, 

Whilst all its instruments, from first to last, 

The tools of state for service high or low, 

Were chosen for their aptness to those ends 
Which virtue meditates. — Henry Taylor. 

The doors of the Pluet home were closely barred that 
night when, after the company of merrymakers dis- 
persed, the two families, reassured that all was real and 
safe, took to their slumbers, which were protracted 
far into the morning. The next few days were spent 
in preparation for the exit of the volunteers and the 
long separation of Captain Janes from his family. 
None expected this to extend beyond a year at most ; 
for they reasoned that, however long the war might 
be protracted, the New Orleans campaign would ter- 
minate within this time, and, owing to slow means of 
transporting armies and scant supplies, the Natchez 
company would be allowed to visit home again soon 
for recuperation of equipage. Yet when the day of de- 
parture came the farewell scenes were as impressive 
as if the separations were for life. Who can foretell 
the fortunes of war ? 

The final leave-taking of the Janeses was particularly 


The Legend of McNutt. 55 

impressive and inspiring. It might have proved de- 
pressing and sad but for the brave hearts and bracing 
sentiments expressed in the valedictory of the prin- 
cipals. 

“My gentle, wise, loyal wife,” said Captain Janes, “I 
intrust you and the children for a time to the protection 
of our good friend Mr. Pluet. Believe me (and I have 
never been false to you), your life and honor are as safe 
in his hands as in mine, so far as he may be able to 
preserve them. I know for special reasons, and assure 
you.” 

She was looking her husband full in the face, and 
trying heroically to control her emotions. Mr. and Mrs. 
Pluet and the children were in the room. When she 
opened her lips to reply, the burst of tears and sobs, 
long pent up, was as if some sudden restraint were 
raised from the barely contained volcanic volume of a 
Vesuvius — the pressure was greater than she could 
control, and her outburst submerged the now merging 
families. Sympathetic tears streamed from all eyes, 
and never afterwards did the two families seem separate 
from each other. They were locked in each other’s 
embrace when she found her speech and said to him : 
“My brave, noble husband, I believe you ! I have the 
utmost confidence in our new friends and in your as- 
surance, but none are to me so good and true as you ! 
Go ! my soldier, captain, hero, and merit the confidence 
of your comrades on the tented fields of your adopted 
land of liberty as you have that of your wife in the sa- 
cred nooks of domestic happiness. You have my bless- 
ings and prayers. W ear your armor nobly, and I will 
be your Penelope till you return. Farewell !” 

The Captain had already tremblingly impressed a 


56 The Legend of McNutt. 

farewell kiss on the upturned face of both children. 
He now stood close to Mr. Pluet, in the hall. Their 
hands were joined between their proximate bodies 
mysteriously. 

“Have no fears, Henry. While I have blood an’ 
breath, I’ll do the best I can.” Then he bade Mrs. Plu- 
et adieu, and was off. 

Public prayers had been held in the old log Metho- 
dist meetinghouse — the only place for public service 
in all the wide new country around — for the blessings 
of God to attend the volunteers, and the American 
cause in general ; and they marched away in martial 
array, to the sound of fife and drum. 

Red Elm had been secluded in the clumps of musca- 
dine vine at the parting, in the hope of overhearing all 
the plans for the future dwelling of the Janeses, and 
succeeded far enough to learn that they were to be 
under the protection of Mr. Pluet, near the junction 
of the Yalobusha and Tallahatchie, but he was shut 
off from the last affecting scene. 

The Indian group strolled away in advance of the 
volunteer company, presumably with the intention of 
following as “hangers on,” even to the encampment 
at New Orleans. The Indian is noncommittal except 
on terms of the purest familiarity. This the Natchez 
boys well understood, hence the Indian family attract- 
ed no special notice, either by their presence or when 
they lagged behind the troops and were seen by them 
no more. But when Mr. Pluet, with his family, the 
Janeses, and the ever-faithful servant, guns in hand 
and two trusty dogs attending, ample camp fixtures and 
a year’s supplies, loaded two large rowboats with sails 
attached and set out for the mouth of the Yazoo, the 


57 


The Legend of McNutt. 

Indians were following a cross-country trail, also head- 
ed for the Tallahatchie country. Of this none were 
aware except themselves. 

Mrs. Janes, both from modesty and fear of provoking 
an altercation between her husband and the Indian, had 
refrained from revealing to the former the attentions 
the latter had paid her during the trip to Natchez. This 
reticence, while it saved the precipitation of matters 
for the time, she bitterly rued many times over during 
the next two years. Although she was not wholly at 
ease on the subject, she forced herself to fancy the 
matter quite in the past when the Indians set off in the 
van of her husband’s command, in plain view of all 
who beheld. 

A few weeks passed, and the voyagers in these two 
refugee boats pulled up to land near a point now known 
as Fort Loring, in Leflore County, Miss., accounting 
themselves fortunate at having escaped danger from 
British gunboats fora season, and feeling congratulated 
on their good condition at the end of the voyage and on 
the prospect of now setting up camp permanently. 
They located their camp half a mile back from the 
Yazoo, to obviate disturbance from military operations, 
should any develop along the river. Mr. Pluet, with 
the instinctive eye of a frontiersman, sought a more 
elevated location for his domicile than could be found 
along the river, so as to avoid inconvenience in time of 
high water ; for in locating here he considered the sur- 
roundings sufficiently inviting to remain during the 
progress of the war. After two days’ search, he light- 
ed on one of those numerous mounds which abound in 
many parts of America, geologically attributed to a 
former race known as “the mound builders.” This, he 


58 The Legend of McNutt. 

decided, would serve his purpose admirably, as it was 
large and sufficiently retired for safety, and on this 
mound he erected his house. 

The house was built large and with an upper room 
for Mrs. Janes and her children. While Mr. Pluet and 
his slave were felling the long straight poles and drag- 
ging them to the mound, the women and children were 
collecting cypress bark for the roofing and to line the 
cracks between the poles, so that at an early day they 
were ready to move to shelter in what they could with 
propriety denominate their own house. They were 
comfortably housed from the weather at this season — 
spring — with only the skeleton of the house well roofed ; 
and Mr. Pluet used his leisure to put on the finishing, 
intending to build a chimney before winter. But they 
were poorly defended against bear and panther, with 
which they were daily in danger of coming in contact. 
A spacious basement chamber was dug immediately 
under the center of the large, square room, and a trap 
door made to open into it near the rear of the house. 
This was to serve the double purpose of cold storage 
and retreat in case of danger. Such a trap door was 
also fitted on the opening in the upper room as a meas- 
ure of protection. With these precautions, a carniv- 
orous animal would have to attack most stealthily or 
most ferociously, or it would fail to find the effort 
fruitful; and they felt tolerably secure, with the two 
floors of thick, broad, white oak, split puncheons. 

They carried up with them an abundant supply of all 
provisions that were actually necessary to last for a 
whole year, and that was quite as long as most commo- 
dities could be hygienically preserved. These they 
carefully bestowed in the basement. Sandy and the 


59 


The Legend of McNutt. 

hounds kept an ample supply of venison as long as it 
was eatable, and Mr. Pluet would take a turn for bear 
occasionally, to replenish the supply of pork and lard. 

Full two months passed without casualties after the 
newcomers had moved into their very habiu ble 
quarters. Danger from every cause seemed now only 
to be wisely guarded against, and not an eminent proba- 
bility. The two women were sufficiently contrasted 
in their personal characteristics to be mutually admired, 
and sufficiently similar in many of their essential traits 
of mind and habit to be entirely congenial — an unusual 
combination in two of the fair sex, especially when such 
relations as those sustained is protracted to any 
considerable length. They had together adorned their 
rude cabin home with numerous touches of delicate 
taste, which only the imagination of a refined lady can 
devise. These were in many instances heightened by 
the involuntary outcroppings of Mrs. Janes’s superior 
culture, who was almost certain to be complimented 
with a final appeal, before any dainty of this nature was 
finally set in place by the other. In fact, had they been 
sisters, so beautiful a cooperation could scarcely have 
resulted. The children were given lessons every day. 
To this Mrs. Janes especially addressed herself, and lit- 
tle Fletcher received the same patient attention at her 
hands as her own children. His bright little mind re- 
sponded flatteringly to her efforts, and he imbibed from 
her many deep impressions of truth, by which he was 
abundantly blessed in future years. The unselfish 
amity of the mothers was a priceless boon to the children. 

It was an ideal morning about the middle of June 
when the entire community (Sandy, hounds, and all) set 
off in a westerly direction, along a trail which Sandy 


6o 


The Legend of McNutt. 

had partly cut and partly blazed out, sometimes across 
ridges of thick, tall cane, and sometimes across “over- 
flows,” where only short growth impeded travel. Thev 
were bent on pleasure strictly, for the first time during 
the year. Mr. Pluet had sometime before discovered 
a long shimmering lake some two miles distant, which 
swarmed with fine game fishes, and the day of pleasure 
in taking some of them had been planned ahead, and 
the negro detailed to mark out the road for the trip. 

At this season the poet’s perfect May weather is in 
full sway. Contests between winter and summer are 
over, and vegetation bounds forth in earnest. The 
forest birds sing exhilaratingly as they flit with their 
mates among full-grown leaves. So that, if October 
is the golden clasp which binds together the two lids 
of the seasons, June is the silver hinge on which they 
open — the shining link between spring and summer, 
being as much of one as the other, and combining the 
best of both in one. 

In open country the weather would have been con- 
sidered rather warm on such a morning, but in the 
cool shade of the dense forest the air was delight- 
fully balmy and refreshing. On this occasion the sky 
was fleckless, the breezes fragrant, and all nature alive 
with the exuberance of fructifying vitality. The gray 
squirrel chattered at the light-hearted pleasure seekers 
as they tripped along, the blue jay chanted his lazy but 
piercing lays, and the woodchuck sputtered and flapped 
far ahead in the distance on the approach of intruders. 
An occasional forest owl by his scream thrilled their 
fast-beatinghearts with the consciousness that panthers 
too inhabited those wilds. The loud, shrill cry of a 
great bald eagle greeted their ears as they approached 


The Legend of McNutt. 61 

the lake from the east, and, looking through a gap in the 
thick foliage of cypress, they beheld him circling high 
in air, as if hesitating between going and stay- . 
ing. When their presence was perceived, the bird 
veered away to the south and perched upon the skeleton 
of a giant oak which had ceased to put forth its an- 
nual verdure on account of its natural force being 
abated, though “by the rivers of water,” and stood with 
broad, stretching, bare arms — a thing apart, and a fit- 
ting perch for so majestic a bird. 

“See dat big bird, Lizzie?” said Sandy to the little 
girl he had been carrying the last mile of the journey, 
because she had tired of the unusual walk. 

“Yes; whoo-e, San’y, how large! It’s as bid as 
Dranpa Janes’s bid peafowls in En’lan’ ! Can ’oo catch 
it for me ?” said the child gleefully. 

“No, child; don’ you see he done took his stan’ too 
high on dat big tree, whar he can min’ his young’n’s 
lack your pa do to keep you f’om bein’ kilt?” 

“No, my papa don’t now, San’y; cause he’s a bid soger, 
an’s gone to Noo Orl’ans wit Ol’ Hickory,” rejoined the 
brilliant little tot. “He’ll tome back to us ’ough, an’ O, 
won’t we have a fine time, San’y, tellin’ him about t’at 
bid peafowl, an’ goin’ to catch fish ?” 

“Dat no peafowl, chil’ ; dat er eagle, big ’nough to 
tote you off in his long clutches,” said the artless slave. 

“O mamma! where's mamma?” cried the golden- 
haired pet of the whole group. “Mamma, San’y says 
t’at bid bird is an Egyptian an”ll take us ’way if we get 
close !” and with this the child began to whimper and 
sob. Sandy tried to explain to her, but she was so af- 
frighted by associating with “eagle” the idea of kid- 
napers, and possibly with Bible stories of Joseph in 


62 


The Legend of McNutt. 

Egypt, that she began to cry out in good earnest. Her 
mother took charge, and thought to hush her crying 
by telling her that panthers would find them if she 
didn’t; but this only served to terrify Lizzie so that she 
wouldn’t be content far from her mother all day. 

The scream of fright uttered by the little girl was 
extremely unfortunate for all parties that day; but, so 
far as we can understand, it may be it was fortunate in 
the end, as it served to bring matters to a crisis. Red 
Elm and his associates were encamped a mile or two 
down, between the lake and the river; and on this very 
morning he was strolling along one of the “overflows,” 
still-hunting for deer. He had about despaired of find- 
ing one, and, when he heard the eagle’s note, seated him- 
self not far from the lake, intending to shoot it with 
his flint-and-steel rifle he had secured in exchange for 
skins at Natchez, should it circle within range again. 
The cry of the child caught his ear, and at the sime 
time started a drove of deer, sending them in a stam- 
pede through the forest, all unseen by the fishing 
party. 

Three fine deer stopped within thirty yards of the In- 
dian. He raised his gun and, taking deliberate aim, 
was about to fire when, suddenly, he abandoned his 
purpose and turned his head in the direction of the 
child’s cry. His quick ear recognized the familiar 
sound as the same he had heard the morning Lizzie 
was stolen by the gypsy. The hunt was now no at- 
traction to him, it had lost its charm, and more weighty 
matters engaged him ; for he had now some shadow of 
an opportunity to accomplish the object of above two 
months’ weary search. Stealthily he had scrutinized 
the shores of the Yazoo for miles below in his vain 


The Legend of McNutt. 63 

quest for Mr. Pluet’s landing place, and had about de- 
cided to return down the river, thinking he had set in too 
high up. But now all was solved, and his plans soon 
devised for the day, at least, whereupon he carefully 
made his way up the lake a short distance inland, until 
he descried the fishing party descending the gentle de- 
clivity to the water’s edge. 

Garfish were flapping the surface of the lake into 
ever-widening rings in rapid succession, smaller fish 
were leaping and darting about in its clear waters, some 
in quest of food, others in mere fish-merriment, so that 
the water was in perpetual motion with the numberless 
multitudes of fishes, disporting themselves in nature’s 
undisturbed solitudes. Soon hooks and lines were pro- 
duced, and bream tackle began to flirt far out into the 
water among the rollicking game, and the fun began. 
Mrs. Janes realized the dreams of her girlhood — expe- 
riencing that of which she had read so much in the mag- 
azine articles on American colonial life ; but thinking her- 
self at far greater advantage, in that she was removed 
far from the danger of being overtaken by cruel sav- 
ages, the constant dread of the colonists during the early 
settlement of the Atlantic colonies. Little thought she 
that such an enemy, who was also her great admirer, 
was secluded within easy eye-shot of her and observing 
her every movement with an intensity of interest unsur- 
passed by wild animals seeking an opportunity to 
pounce upon their prey. Her ignorance was her bliss. 

Loveliness is a tame word to describe her surround- 
ings as she drew in a game fish occasionally, and often 
a fine bream, fat and round. The fog of the early 
morning had quite vanished, and the virgin forest was 
calm and reposeful, though instant with vegetable and 


64 The Legend of McNutt. 

animal life. The lake, bathed in the slanting beams 
of the blazing sun, reflected the long, tassellated rows 
of living green that fringed the opposite bank on its 
rippling surface, so that mother nature seemed to be 
busy weaving garlands of beryl, ever changing, to 
gratify the tastes of her welcome guests and pave 
the pathway of her Maker as he walked among her 
bowers or dwelt amidst her ever-richening beauties. 
Looking from the opposite shore, one might have 
seen a life picture of ineffable perfection. Mrs. 
Janes, with Nicholas and Elizabeth near by, was 
the very semblance of health and happiness. Her 
long and well-kept golden tresses, now slightly di- 
sheveled, waved in graceful fluffs about her Grecian 
neck as she stood uncovered in the shade. Her brilliant 
gray eyes expressed no more happiness even in the 
glow of her bridal evening, under the fond glance and 
safe protection of her doting groom, than now. The 
crimson on her cheeks alternately deepened and faded 
under the present excitement, which momentarily ren- 
dered her at once oblivious of the care and anxiety she 
usually felt for her absent companion and the real and 
imaginary dangers with which she and her children were 
thought to be surrounded, and surmounted her beauty 
with a living reality no painter can invent. The very 
freshness of youth regathered in her every expression. 
It glowed upon her cheek, beamed in her eyes, and 
gushed forth in peals of merry, girlish laughter. Her 
children joined sympathetically in her delights as the 
silver-sided, golden-eyed perch and spotted trout floun- 
dered in the sunlight. Both Mr. and Mrs. Pluet re- 
marked the exquisite pleasure the party all enjoyed to 


The Legend of McNutt. 65 

its fullest measure. They had not seen Mrs. Janes so 
merry ever before, and never would again. 

This very hour of her delight kindled in the bosom 
of the gloating savage, crouching eavesdropper that he 
was, a flame of lust that forever fixed the habit of his 
thought and decided him never to abandon his purpose. 
He had but recently decided, under the persuasion of the 
old squaw, that the hardships and frights Mrs. Janes 
was undergoing would soon rob her of her beauty and 
then of her life, and that his wisest course was to hasten 
to the Ouachita, where others of his people were to be 
found, and seek a wife among the women of his own 
race. Doubtless had Mrs. Janes appeared sadder, more 
forlorn, or in any way less lovely, his steps would soon 
have been directed thitherward. And so it often occurs 
that those circumstances which appear to secure us im- 
munity from danger are the preludes to and sometimes 
the occasions of our entanglement, downfall, or sorrow. 

Red Elm now burned with an insatiable desire to 
possess the treasure that had filled his day and night 
dreams for the past few months, and this was backed 
by a fixed determination to compass this gratification, 
coupled with a powerful physical strength. As he lay 
stretched alongside of a tree top, force-fallen in a tem- 
pest of the previous summer, with half-decayed leaves 
mingling with the vines that grew up among the dead 
branches, he planned his attack and schemed his es- 
cape with the lady, but he was doomed to sore disap- 
pointment. 

A flock of half a dozen blue jays, with a nest probably 
not far away, discovered the skulking, varmint-looking 
form of the Indian, and raised a chatter among the 
branches overhead. He had chosen this spot for hid- 
5 


66 


The Legend of McNutt. 

in g, thinking it would insure him against discovery on 
account of the “snaky” appearance of the decaying 
tree top, deterring any from approaching too near for 
his comfort. Again he was slightly in error. The jays 
attracted the attention of the whole party, but especially 
of Sandy. The boys began to ask questions about their 
chatter, for boys are natural students of nature and are 
peculiarly affected by the approach of any wild birds 
or animals. So three pairs of eyes were focused in 
the direction of the jays. 

“Mars Dan,dem jaybirds see a snake in dat tree top,” 
said Sandy. “Ble I’ll slip up dar an’ shoot him ; kin I?” 

“I don’t care, Sandy, but don’t go an’ miss it, now, for 
we’ve got no powder an’ lead to bury here, jest for fun ; 
but maybe it’ll stop the mouths of them birds,” replied 
Mr. Pluet, fondly indulging his slave, for he really felt 
quite tenderly toward Sandy. The two had grown up 
together, and Mr. Pluet intended never to part from 
him while they lived. 

The Indian failed to catch the full import of these 
remarks, for he was otherwise employed. Within three 
feet of Red Elm, and under the same bunch of vines, 
lay a huge rattlesnake, taking his nap after swallowing 
a gray squirrel which had paused to scratch for worms 
about the decaying tree top in its route from the lake to 
its leafy home. Plere the rattler had instinctively 
stretched out lengthwise of the log, half burying its bulk 
in the brown leaves, and so captured the squirrel ere 
it was aware of the presence of danger. The Indian, 
in carefully moving himself for a better feast of his 
eyes on the fishing beauty, had pulled aside one of the 
vines, which happened to draw across the sleeping 
snake, arousing and irritating it at the same time. The 


The Legend of McNutt. 67 

singingandrattling of the serpent intensified the terror 
chirps of the jays and greatly agitated Red Elm. His 
first impulse was to jerk the vine again to confuse the 
snake and, mayhap, cause it to spring in an opposite di- 
rection from himself, thus to escape it. But just then 
the Indian caught sight of Sandy picking up the gun 
and starting toward his hiding place. Nothing was 
left for him to do but shoot down the negro and run the 
risk of an encounter with the rattler and, finally, with 
Mr. Pluet, except instant flight. He chose the latter 
alternative, thinking the odds too great against him with 
his aim necessarily confused and uncertain ; and accord- 
ingly ran rapidly backward on all fours, and stoop-ran 
across into the cane near by. 

Sandy would have been in time to fully make out the 
Indian’s presence had he not halted to scold back the 
hounds from following him, saying to them : “ Go back 
dar! I not gwyin’ no huntin’, an’ you come up here 
you git snake bit and kilt ! Hah! Go back dar!” And 
just as Sandy approached near enough to hear the in- 
tense rattling of the angry snake, the Indian was dis- 
appearing into the dense thicket beyond, being partly 
concealed by his former shelter. The negro was con- 
fused, and blurted out : “Law, Mars Dan, it’s a big bear 
or pant’er, one, what skeered de birds ! cause da done 
gone on a’ter hit, now, into de woods. Sho’s gravy, dat 
wuz a bear or pant’er or some’n !” 

“Ah, Sandy, don’t you hear the snake rattlin’ in the 
vines ?” half scolded his master. “You’re jest skeered 
yourself. Gi’me the gun, an’ I’ll shoot the reptil’. 
You’re shakin’ like a switch cane, an’ couldn’t hit the 
lake in that fix. What in tarnation is the matter with 
you, boy?” 


68 The Legend of McNutt. 

“I tells you, sho, Mars Dan, ’for’ de Lawd, dar wuz 
some big vomick or ’nother runned out o’ dat patch o’ 
bushes into de canes, sho’s you bo’n !” 

“That so? Well, put the houn’s a’ter it, then, while 
I kill the snake.” And Mr. Pluet proceeded to shoot 
the infuriated reptile as it flopped out from among the 
vines, with head elevated, tongue shooting out threat - 
enings, and rattles buzzing. Sandy was rounding the 
root of the log, urging the dogs to trail, but they re- 
fused, to his utter surprise. 

“Well, never min’, Sandy; we haven’t got time to fol- 
low it up now, nohow ; an’ then we couldn’t leave the 
women an’ chil’en here to-day by themselves,” said the 
well-meaning master. 

“No won’er da wouldn’ run it, cause it’s a big black 
bear’s track ’thout toes. Da nuver seed no sich a bear 
as dat is. Well, I’ll declare, ’for’ goodness, ef dat ain’t 
a funny bear!” said the grinning, wincing negro, as he 
withdrew, still looking toward the thicket, lest some 
unearthly beast spring out after him. 

“Whar’s the track that Fleeter an’ Ringwood won’t 
run? I’d like to see it,” said thoughtful but disgusted 
Mr. Pluet. 

“Dar it is, right in dat sof’ place by de clay root.” 
Then both gave the track a close inspection, Mr. Pluet 
looking about in some bewilderment. 

“No, Sandy,” said he in an undertone, “that ain’t a 
bear track, but it’s worse. We’re being watched by 
some dirty Injins that don’t know the Seminole war’s 
over. They may give us some trouble. Keep on the 
lookout all the time.” 

The negro turned ashy pale, but didn’t falter. Both 
proceeded to disentangle the monster serpent, which 


The Legend of McNutt. 69 

had wound his body up in some vines in its dying 
squL ms. They dragged it to the lake with a sharp stick 
thrust through its head, for the women and children to 
see, it being the first of its kind discovered during the 
season. There Mr. Pluet detached and counted twen- 
ty-three rattles and a button. 

After every member of the party had well inspected 
the snake, the children, at a respectful distance, nearly 
frantic with excitement and fear, as it still wriggled 
and squirmed at the touch of a stick, Sandy said: 
“Sakes ’live, Mars Dan, you reck’n dem Injins is gwy- 
ner bother us sho ’nough ?” He was so absorbed with 
looking toward the canebrake, his face still ashy, that 
he failed to notice his master shaking his head and 
grimacing at him to say nothing about the Indians. 
Mrs. Janes’s quick eye and ear, however, apprehended 
the pantomime that evidenced their fears. She paled 
quickly, and inquired the full meaning of Sandy’s ques- 
tion. Mr. Pluet, whose habit was to be perfectly frank 
with the women when he thought necessary to inform 
them of danger, hadn’t deemed the present crisis very 
great. He intended to meet one of the Indians at the 
earliest possible moment and inform him that the red 
men were now enlisting with the “Great Father” 
against the redcoats, and so secure them as friends. 
But as he had failed to give Sandy his plan, he was now 
forced to make this explanation to the ladies, and to 
tell them his forebodings. 

Mrs. Janes whitened alarmingly, and sat down to 
rest, her elbow on her knee and her head leaning on her 
half-closed hand. The image of the unforgotten Red 
Elm flashed across her memory, and her heart nearly 
stilled. Full well did she surmise the motive that 


70 The Legend of McNutt. 

prompted the Indian’s skulking in the cluster a few 
minutes before. The thought of her fancied safety 
in her gleeful reverie, just past, and while under the 
very eye of danger, horrified her and decided her to 
tell Mr. and Mrs. Pluet the fears she had withheld 
from her husband, who, of all men, had a perfect right 
to know of them. She no longer felt safe with this pall 
hanging over her, and made free to open the matter to 
them, that she might have their united support and 
vigilance, and so that they might know the cause if she 
should at any time be unaccountably missing. There- 
fore she unfolded to her friends the whole story of the 
Indian’s overtures toward her on the trip to Natchez, 
and her fears lest he should follow and try to persuade 
or force her away with him. The latter gave her 
most fear, and was now judged to be his policy, as he 
had taken to hiding instead of coming up boldly and 
making himself known, as she rightly supposed he 
would have done were his motives smooth. 

Strange as it may appear, this alarm of Mrs. Janes’s 
afforded a breathing spell of relief to Mr. Pluet and 
Sandy. Neither of them regarded Red Elm as a very 
formidable foe ; and they felt sure that, if her conjec- 
ture was true, the group of Indians would either be a 
help to them or easily persuaded to move on and leave 
them alone, after a little show of strength. But, while 
Mr. Pluet inwardly failed to give full credence to Mrs. 
Janes’s ideas, he promised her full protection, and as- 
sured her that the matter should receive prompt inves- 
tigation. 

I would know the heathen’s track anywhere,” said 
Mrs. Janes, “unless he has changed his moccasins, for 
the side of the right one was slightly torn, and the hard, 


. The Legend of McNutt. 71 

crisp rawhide made an unsightly scar in the side of 
his track. I saw it often in our journey to Natchez, 
and again just under the window of our room the next 
morning after Lizzie was kidnaped by the gypsy.” 

The horrid memory of the abduction now depressed 
her almost to fainting. Water was brought, and all 
took a drink, after which the fish were gathered and 
strung, and Mr. Pluet and Sandy proceeded to reexam- 
ine the moccasin track before leaving. Sure enough, 
they found a step farther a dimmer track, with the 
identical scar on the side, exactly as Mrs. Janes had 
said. 

The minds of all, except Mrs. Janes, were now com- 
paratively at ease ; and they plodded their way leisurely 
back to their abode, for their pleasure was at an end 
for that day ; but the ladies made sure that their chil- 
dren were near them, and Sandy was detailed to bring 
up the rear. 


CHAPTER VI. 


To him who in the love of Nature holds 

Communion with her visible forms, she speaks 

A various language: for his gayer hours 

She has a voice of gladness and a smile 

And eloquence of beauty; and she glides 

Into his darker musings with a mild 

And healing sympathy, that steals away 

Their sharpness ere he is aware. When thoughts 

Of the last, bitter hour come like a blight 

Over thy spirit, and sad images 

Of stern agony and shroud and pall 

And the breathless darkness and the narrow house 

Make thee to shudder and grow sick at heart — 

Go forth under the open sky, and list 
To Nature’s teachings, while from all around — 

Earth and her waters and the depths of air — 

Comes a still voice. —Bryant. 

The march homeward was necessarily very slow, 
for the fatigue of the outward trip had not been over- 
come amid the excitement and activity attending the 
successes on the lake, though measurably forgotten 
when the sickening fright had almost overcome Mrs. 
Janes. She had gone to the spot and reassured her- 
self of the identity of the moccasin track, even though 
her protectors had confirmed her fears ; for, thought 
she, some other Indian might have a scarred footwear. 
But when she saw for herself and observed a slit in 
the appendage of the snagged moccasin, made by an 
effort to bind it up with a piece of whang, which had 
torn out its hole and left it ragged, she had no fur- 
ther doubt; and never before had she so anxiously 
longed for her husband. Little sleep came to her lot 
that night, for she fancied she would be set upon at 


73 


The Legend of McNutt. 

some unguarded moment by the lusty-eyed, brawny- 
muscled Indian, and either have to grapple with him 
for her freedom (which, indeed, she entertained but lit- 
tle hope of maintaining) or, maybe struggle for her 
life, with the bare possibility of losing it. 

Mr. Pluet spent a good portion of the afternoon 
hunting for the Indians. He rightly supposed that the 
squad was all together, as few of this nation remained, 
and he knew also that they had come up from the south 
and were not sufficiently acquainted with the country to 
risk dividing out and concerting to meet again at a 
given point; but he didn’t know whether or not they 
were all one family. He now felt sure, however, that 
Red Elm intended to possess himself of his desired vic- 
tim and make off westward to the rendezvous of the 
tribe, if possible ; hence, he concluded, they must be en- 
camped somewhere near, and could be easily found. 
He wouldn’t undertake to trail Red Elm from his hid- 
ing place, for he knew the sagacity of the Indian who 
thinks he is hunted in covering up his tracks ; and, as 
the Indian had created suspicion, he would expect to 
be followed. Therefore his plan was to take to the 
river, find out, if possible, where they crossed and 
how, and maybe trace them to their camp. These 
plans were discussed with the family at the dinner 
table, and when he started he told his wife he might 
not return till after nightfall. 

When Mr. Pluet had slid down the sluggish current 
of the stream some three miles in one of his boats, it 
was two o’clock by his old Spanish watch. Closely in- 
specting the shores as he floated along, his attention 
was drawn by the marks of a “dugout” prow at the 
soft water line on the west, and farther up the bank 


74 The Legend of McNutt. 

were moccasin tracks in plain view, among which were 
those of Red Elm’s, with the torn jag indented in the 
side. A short distance lower he found the boat, en- 
sconced among willows. This thoughtful man now 
landed his own skiff a hundred yards above, around 
the point of a quick bend, among other willows, and set 
out at once to trail the Indians to their camp. He found 
this an exceedingly difficult task, confirming his sus- 
picions that they were bent on mischief ; for Indians 
are never careful about their trail when in open and 
friendly relations. 

Not far from the river the trail was lost completely, 
and Mr. Pluet circled about in search of' it, not attempt- 
ing to conceal his designs, for he wished the pursued to 
know he desired to come up with them, thinking that 
if they saw him thus openly looking for them they 
would certainly conclude his errand a friendly one. In 
this circling attempt to hit upon the trail again Mr. 
Pluet was intercepted by the old man, of the group of 
Indians, who was on his way to the river, and, as it de- 
veloped later, his errand was similar to that on which 
Mr. Pluet was bent. They came together in an open 
where a long log stretched across an “overflow” from 
one dense canebrake to another, on which the Indians 
walked over the slough, thus preventing tracks. They 
had not cut their trail entirely out to the edge of the tall 
cane, and took special care to remove all mud from their 
moccasins to prevent leaving marks on the log. As the 
Indian was standing on this log when he addressed Mr. 
Pluet as “Cane Biter,” the name by which the red men 
knew him, he could not have guessed the direction from 
which the Indian came. His only course was now to 
enter into conversation and find out what he could by 


The Legend of McNutt. 75 

that method. The red man continued: “Ugh! Much 
sharp eyes. Hide self, then find Injin good!” was the 
equivocal ejaculation of broken English. “Why keep 
close? Injin no hurt.” 

Mr. Pluet, in his effort to cultivate amicable relations, 
advanced, extending his hand and saying: “Redcoat 
got big boat an’ big gun.” 

“No redcoat here,” rejoined the Indian; “all on big 
pool.” 

“Yes, but come from big pool to big branch, then 
to little branch,” replied the other, pointing as he did to 
the river, almost in sight of them. 

“Ugh ! not run from redcoat. Cane too heap, can’t 
find. Big gun shoot, miss.” 

“Yes, I could with Sandy; but the squaws an’ pa- 
pooses no run in heap cane. Big gun redcoat find 
them,” said Mr. Pluet, thinking to draw the Indian on 
to the subject uppermost in his mind. The stratagem 
succeeded admirably, for the Indian caught up the sub- 
ject, and, doubting whether Mr. Pluet would be friend- 
ly to the young chief’s designs, led on : “Injin much 
help hide Wild Rose and papooses. Cane Biter run off 
with squaw. Black Face take away papoose.” 

Mr. Pluet at once understood him to mean that if the 
Captain’s wife, whom the Indians denominated “Wild 
Rose,” would consent, they would take her children in 
the bargain ; then his own family would be the only re- 
sponsibility left upon him. He didn’t wish to incur the 
ill will of the Indians, but was resolved to in some way 
induce their departure without disclosing the real 
forebodings of Mrs. Janes, lest this be either a cause of 
irritation or give them to know they were suspected 
and dreaded. 


76 The Legend of McNutt. 

“Honest In jin don’t want paleface to break trade 
with English captain? Cane Biter promise him take 
good care squaw an’ papooses,” said he. “Turncoat 
wear blue now. He break trade. No good paleface. 
Make not much deer in wigwam,” said the crafty old 
redskin, alluding to Captain Janes’s change of arms. 

Mr. Pluet saw also in this the tactics Red Elm in- 
tended to employ to try to turn Mrs. Janes from her 
husband. 

“Turncoat love the Great Father now ; fight for In- 
jin too. Red Elm wouldn’t take paleface’s squaw 
while on warpath to keep In jin’s wigwam an’ squaws 
an’ papooses heap safe, good?” 

“Ugh! how know Red Elm want Wild Rose? No. 
Injin don’t take Wild Rose; she go Red Elm’s squaw, 
he tell her. He love her much. Turncoat gone. No 
good. Don’t love her.” 

“No, no ! Wild Rose love English captain ; no love 
Red Elm. Kill Red Elm he comes to her. Won’t talk 
to redskin while warrior on warpath.” 

“Wild Rose say so, then Red Elm let alone,” said the 
old man, not knowing what Red Elm had determined 
to do that morning while in ambush ; for Red Elm had 
only told his companions that he had seen the palefaces, 
and that he was going to hunt their camp and see 
them ; and he had enlisted the old man’s aid, who had 
started out to pull farther up the river in quest of their 
landing, when he met Mr. Pluet. Now, with changed 
plans, he was ready to return to his camp and inform 
his squaw of the fruitlessness of Red Elm’s plans, and 
prepare at once to push on to the Ouachita, when Mr. 
Pluet told him he wanted to smoke the pipe with him, 
and, not knowing his mind, he wanted them to leave 


The Legend of McNutt. 77 

the vicinity, for fear too many people together would 
cause the redcoats to land and scour the country, when 
all their lives would be lost. To this the old chief 
agreed (for so he was to his remnant of a tribe), and 
they parted with that understanding, neither of them 
knowing what Red Elm would say in the premises. 

With the matter at rest in his own mind, Mr. Pluet 
started home to relieve the minds of his wife and Mrs. 
Janes, whose anxiety had enlisted his sympathy, though 
he failed to fully share it. He strolled leisurely from 
the river toward the house, along an open that led al- 
most to his home and that lay parallel with a very dense 
canebrake, looking for game, as was his habit when in 
the forest. About halfway between the river and the 
cabin he sat down in a bunch of switch cane near a deer 
trail, hoping one would come by, as meat would soon 
be low with them. He had been there quite fifteen 
minutes when he noticed the long thick cane moving 
some distance away just ahead. A deer, thought he, 
would not usually travel out of the trail in such tall cane, 
so it must be something else. Then he observed that, 
whatever animal it was, it moved cautiously, which 
frustrated the idea of it being a bear. This left only 
the thought of panther on his practiced mind. Thus he 
sat, with primed firelock, watching the moving cane 
as the object came nearer to the open. In a short time, 
to Mr. Pluet’s utter surprise, Red Elm emerged from 
the cane and stood erect, gazing anxiously toward the 
house full five minutes; then, casting an inquiring 
glance back toward the river, he began stealthily to 
creep along the edge of the cane toward the house. 

Red Elm had come up the trail used by the whites in 
the forenoon, and had reconnoitered the west side of 


78 The Legend of McNutt. 

their retreat ; made a detour of the mound to the east 
side, and was now examining the situation from this ap- 
proach, intending, no doubt, to pass back along the 
path to their landine, so planning for the nearest out- 
let where he could land his boat when it suited him to 
make a sally for his prize. The considerations caused 
Mr. Pluet to keep still and watch results, for he knew 
the Indian would take to the cane again if he hailed him, 
so far away, and he would fail to talk with him. Red 
Elm crept up until the house was within plain view. 
The ladies were seated out by the door, busily sewing 
some new fabric, and the children playing near them, 
while Sandy was at the north end of the mound, twenty 
yards away, dressing skins. It was the latter who first 
caught sight of the skulking redskin, whereupon he 
walked hastily to the house, unobserved by the Indian, 
until he reached the group, and informed them of his 
fears. Sandy hastened into the house for his gun, and 
the women and children began to crane their necks and 
peep for their recognized foe, by which Red Elm saw 
that he had been spied. He darted into the edge of the 
brake where the cane was short, thereby being the 
better able to beat a hasty retreat. 

He had not proceeded far when he heard the voice 
of Mr. Pluet, very near, commanding him to stop. At 
a glance he saw the gun leveled at his head, and he 
feared to venture either to raise his own or to attempt 
escape. He accordingly essayed to make the best of an 
awkward situation by advancing with his hand held out 
in friendship. 

“Don’t come closer,” said Mr. Pluet, in such lan- 
guage as Red Elm well understood, “until you explain 
why you slip about my wigwam that way.” 


79 


The Legend of McNutt. 

The Indian endeavored to gain time by saying that 
he was trying to find out whose wigwam it was, and 
that he had failed. 

“You lie, for why was you skulkin’ by the lake this 
mornin’ lookin’ at the whole family, if it wasn’t to find 
out who lives here ?” 

Red Elm was taken aback, for he saw now that Mr. 
Pluet and Sandy knew of his movements and sus- 
pected that Wild Rose was the cause of his being 
watched. 

“Now, tell me all the truth, or I’ll kill you where you 
stand !” was Mr. Pluet’s peremptory command. “No 
Injin sneaks about like that ’nless he is on the warpath 
or means deviltry ; so you jest as well tell me all about 
it.” 

The Indian saw that the white man knew the truth, 
and that he was in his power, so he made the best of a 
bad bargain again by confessing that he was trying to 
get a chance to talk to Wild Rose, with a view to offer- 
ing her protection and support during her husband’s en- 
forced absence in the war. 

Mr. Pluet told him that Wild Rose disliked him 
and wouldn’t accept his offer ; also that he and the old 
Indian had already made an agreement for the whole 
Indian group to move on at once, both of which state- 
ments perceptibly agitated Red Elm. 

“Besides,” said the white man, “Captain Janes placed 
his squaw an’ papoose under my care, an’ I’ll protect 
’em even if I have to go on the warpath to do it, an’ 
you’d better look out.” 

At this the excited Indian made a move to raise his 
gun and start, but Mr. Pluet bade him “halt” once more. 

“Now,” he said, “if you will smoke the pipe of peace 


8o 


The Legend of McNutt. 

with me, an’ then go away with the others, I will let 
you off ; but if not, we must finish it now.” 

Red Elm said he would smoke the pipe of peace with 
Mr. Pluet, but wouldn’t agree to leave with the other 
Indians, as they were nothing to him more than other 
Indians, and that he had not been consulted when the 
trade was made, which was the rule among chiefs. 
“The canebrake is heap big,” said he. “Much deer for 
paleface an’ red man.” 

Mr. Pluet, knowing the deep prejudices of the na- 
tives and their pugnacity against an agreement in which 
their chiefs are not consulted, agreed to this compro- 
mise. The pipe of peace was passed back and forth be- 
tween them as they talked over the terms of their agree- 
ment. Red Elm promised to keep away from the oth- 
er’s wigwam until he should send him, word to come. 
Both were to spy out for the redcoats, and convey 
word to each other if they came up the Yazoo, and Red 
Elm was to send some skins to the lodge of Mr. Pluet 
next day, in token that he would protect the family and 
do them no harm. 

With this agreement they parted, each walking care- 
lessly off from the other, Mr. Pluet feeling that he was 
safe with the word of an Indian and the promise of a 
pledge on the morrow. He had not proceeded far to- 
ward the house when Sandy, who had crept up to 
within fifty yards of the councilors, said in a loud, ex- 
cited whisper, “Look out dar, Mars Dan !” and he in- 
stantly turned his head toward the Indian, who had 
turned and was bringing his gun up behind a tree. But, 
seeing himself watched, Red Elm raised his head and 
began walking around the tree as if looking for a squir- 
rel. The master said: “What’s the matter, Sandy? 


The Legend of McNutt. 81 

You’re al’ys seein’ danger when thar’ ain’t none. Me 
an’ Red Elm jest made an agreement, an’ he is only a’ ter 
a squirrel.” 

“I tells you, Mars Dan, dat redskin wuz gwyner 
shoot you, ef you hadn’ looked roun’, cause I seed him 
an’ he nuver seed me,” whispered Sandy. 

“O no. You’ll se’t he’ll send me a pledge to-mor- 
row, an’, Sandy, when a In jin seals his agreement with 
a pledge he’ll keep it.” 

“Well, den, he ain’t gwyner sen’ no pledge, cause 
dat yallow dog don’t ’ten’ no good, Mars Dan. Sho’s 
you bo’n he don’t.” 

When the men reached the house the women were 
almost frantic with fear, and were afraid for them to 
leave again the whole evening, though they felt sure of 
killing a deer by returning in the twilight to the trail. 
Sandy was sent out next morning on a still-hunt, and 
brought in a fine doe by noon, killed within a quarter of a 
mile of the house. The whole day passed, and no pledge 
came from Red Elm. In justification of his confidence 
in the Indian, Mr. Pluet argued that he was probably 
trying to kill a fresh deer or bear, when he would send 
the skin and fresh meat both, which would be a double 
token. But the whole day passed, and still no pledge 
came. 

On the morning of the third day, with a silent deter- 
mination to ferret out the matter, and much against the 
entreaties of the ladies, Mr. Pluet set off for the Indian 
camp alone ; for the family simply would not agree for 
Sandy to go and leave them entirely without protection, 
though this faithful slave, like thousands of others in 
his day and later, felt a conscious pride in the position 
of a self-appointed bodyguard to his master. But his 
6 


82 


The Legend of McNutt. 

importance was enhanced when he was accounted wor- 
thy to be placed, as a kind of dark sentinel, shadowing 
the picket line of defense around the more precious 
treasures at home. He magnified his position, and all 
confided utterly in his integrity, as has been the case in 
the South in instances innumerable. 

“No, honey, Sandy won’t let dem big Injins git you 
an’ your mamma,” said he to little Lizzie, as she clung 
confidingly to his neck ; and with many other familiari- 
ties he consoled the family with promises of defense, 
even to the point of death. The boys were the constant 
companions of his idle moments about the hcuse. With 
never-waning patience he answered, as best he could, 
their searching inquisitiveness, telling them all the se- 
crets of the great forest he knew or had ever heard, and 
of the subtle habits of its numerous animals and reptiles ; 
also all the startling tales of Indian wars and ghostly ap- 
paritions that had clung to his naturally superstitious 
mind, with riddles, games, and Bible stories galore, so 
that, by the time their sojourn in the forest ceased, these 
boys were adepts in much of the folklore, facts, and fan- 
cies of that thrilling and romantic period. 

Mr. Pluet, on this occasion, as was his wont, took to 
the river, and cautiously slipped down along the eastern 
shore of the stream in one of his boats, examining 
the general aspect of things, until he came opposite to 
where the dugout had lain. But he discovered that 
it was gone, and, rowing over to their landing, saw the 
fresh moccasin tracks where three of the Indian band 
had embarked, he supposed, to take the : r leave — the 
two old Indians and the lad. Again he hid his own boat 
among the willows above and cautiously slipped into the 
cane. Going to the log where he had met the old chief 


The Legend of McNutt. 83 

three days before, he sought with minute assiduity for 
further signs. A little way into the edge of the cane- 
brake, but entirely obscure from outward view, he 
chanced upon a trail they had cut, leading northwest, 
which was so neatly trimmed out as to give the impres- 
sion that they had intended spending some while in that 
locality. He followed this along without apparent con- 
cern to avoid being caught skulking, as Red Elm had 
been, near his house, but took care to have his gun ready 
for use at a moment’s warning. Crossing this dense 
canebrake, he came upon the site of the Indians’ former 
habitation, on the brink of a narrow running drain, in a 
small open, full half a mile from the river. Nothing re- 
mained but the distorted skeleton of a wigwam, and, as 
Red Elm had not departed with the others, Mr. Pluet 
concluded that he had moved his lodging, which was 
not an unnatural thing for an Indian, on the desertion 
of his former community. A prolonged and laborious 
search resulted in no clue whatever leading to his wig- 
wam, which confirmed Mr. Pluet in Sandy’s belief that 
Red Elm was bent on mischief. 

Some days and nights passed by without further de- 
velopments, great care being taken, however, to fore- 
stall surprise. The dogs were habited to sleep under a 
thatched shed, just by the door and in front of the 
closed cellar scuttle, into which they could be drawn 
from within, in case of imminent danger to them out- 
side. On the second Sabbath night following the inci- 
dents above related, just as the moon was rising at mid- 
night, the dogs became unusually excited. The grown 
people were all soon broad awake, and Mr. Pluet and 
Sandy both pushed out of bed, gun in hand, to seek and 
intercept any intruder. Keeping themselves well under 


84 The Legend of McNutt. 

cover, for both were at last suspicious of treachery, 
they reconnoitered all the space about the house, with 
no results. Mrs. Janes was so agitated that she couldn’t 
retire again with only the roof of thin cypress bark, held 
in position by weight poles above her, lest the wily In- 
dians might climb up from the outside and undertake to 
abduct her through the roof; and she requested that 
Sandy come up and sit on guard, where he could peer 
out through cracks left open on purpose for ventilation, 
and which could be closed by adjusting the cypress slab 
and pinning it securely in place with sharp pegs driven 
into gashes made in the soft, green wood with the corner 
of an ax. Sandy was quite willing to this arrangement, 
and was soon on faithful guard. With this sharp-eyed 
vigilant near her, the well-bred English lady, who had 
been all her life accustomed to servants, soon dropped 
into peaceful slumbers. Quiet seemed now to reign 
again — the dogs were hushed, and ere long a low, 
smothered, half-hocking noise arose from the room be- 
low, which Sandy recognized as his master’s snore. 
This opened his own eyes wide, for their lids had begun 
to feel tired and heavy. He peered into the moonlit 
space about the house to see that nothing approached 
unseen. The upper room was in a half twilight, and 
every object in it plainly visible to Sandy’s well-dilated 
pupils. He was contemplating with no little gratifica- 
tion the sleeping beauty and her children, so utterly re- 
poseful and confiding under his trust, which trust he 
would sooner die than betray, when the dogs were again 
measurably excited. On looking out down the trail 
westward Sandy caught sight of a moving object; a 
second look revealed a big brindle panther crossing the 
open, seventy yards away. All the grown people were 


The Legend of McNutt. 85 

awakened by the dogs, and the crack of Sandy’s gun 
brought forth the query, simultaneously from above 
and below : “What did you see, Sandy?” 

“A big pant’er, Mars Dan. He’s done scented dat 
fawn’s blood, over dar in de cane, an’ wuz creepin’ 
over to it. I spects he done quit creepin’ now, an’ 
took to leapin’ toder way.” 

After the shooting was discussed by the white peo- 
ple a few minutes, Mrs. Janes said composedly : “Well, 
Sandy, aren’t you sleepy? I reckon you may as well 
go down and sleep awhile now; since your gun has 
fired and the dogs seem so wakeful, I don’t feel so 
much afraid.” Sandy obeyed. Next morning it was 
ascertained that the negro’s aim was a true one, and 
that his feline lordship lay stretched in the open at 
full length and dead. 

This incident gave general relief to the weaker 
members of the family, for they now no longer doubted 
the safeguard of the dogs, and time passed unevent- 
fully for about a month. No trace had been seen of 
Red Elm during this time, and they grew less appre- 
hensive. It was one of the last days of July when 
Mr. Pluet strolled out not far from home in search 
of game. Mrs. Pluet and Sandy were busy about the 
house, and Mrs. Janes and her children repaired to a 
spring that gurgled up from the edge of a marsh near 
the south end of the mound, the lady busying herself 
with her weekly washing, while the children played 
about her. She used some short, deep troughs, dug 
out as substitutes for tubs, and dipped water from this 
family spring. 

Mrs. Janes had about dismissed danger from her 
mind in the long absence of excitement, and her 


86 The Legend of McNutt. 

elastic spirits rebounded with her usual strength of 
mind and health of person. Her whole thought was 
submerged in a fancied meeting with her absent com- 
panion, which she had imagined would occur in a 
thousand different situations since they had been sep- 
arated. Suddenly she was awakened from her pose 
of day-dream fancy by the terrorizing scream of little 
Lizzie and the forward rush of Nicholas to his sister’s 
side. At that moment Red Elm appeared with ex- 
tended hand and a smile, attempting to conciliate her. 
None can describe and few can sustain the rapid 
transition of soul which now possessed her. 

“Leave here!” she stormed at him, as if scolding an 
insolent and vicious dog, at the same moment mechan- 
ically producing a long, sharp-pointed dirk, which, 
of late days, she always carried suspended to her belt 
beneath her apron. “ Begone , you sneaking cur , or Fll 
kill you !” said she with blanched cheek but unflinch- 
ing eye. 

Red Elm, quickly glancing in every direction, saw 
that time was short, that what was done must be done 
quickly, for things were in a stir. He pleaded with her : 
“Would the Wild Rose let Red Elm speak with her? 
He loves her! Good Injun. No hurt Wild Rose and 
papooses !” 

“No! Leave me, I tell you, or Fll kill you! D’you hear 
me?” 

Just then Sandy came into view, running from the 
house with his gun, and the Indian raised his gun to 
shoot him ; but Mrs. Janes stepped in front of the gun 
and closer to the children, with the threatening knife 
in her hand, shouting at the top of her voice : “Run 
fast, Mr. Pluet, run! He is going to shoot Sandy!” 


The Legend of McNutt. 87 

She was looking off behind the Indian; and he, fearing 
Mr. Pluet from the rear, bounded into the switch cane 
and was soon lost to view. A bullet from Sandy’s 
gun whistled uncomfortably near his head, and he 
dropped to all fours and proceeded thus till out of 
reach and sight. 

Mr. Pluet ran up from the south just as the cane 
was stilling after the flurry, but not in time to shoot. 

The heathen dog !” said he. “I thought he was gone. 
Now we’re goin’ to have to move ag’in jest to hide 
from him; but I know a place of safe retreat whar 
he’ll not be able to find us,” speaking low. 

“Can’t we return to Natchez?” pleaded Mrs. Janes, 
sitting on the end of the log from which the troughs 
were dug, and shaking from head to foot from nerv- 
ous excitement, nearly fainting. 

“No’m, I hardly think it best yit,” confidingly said 
Mr. Pluet, stepping near her. “Henry said he would 
come to us here when the war’s over, an’ then I 
think it doubtful ’bout safety thar yit. No men scarce- 
ly to help, an’, if the British soldiers come up, they’d 
make it hard on you women.” Mrs. Pluet was just now 
come and was rubbing Mrs. Janes’s head and, in a 
sisterly way, helping to restore her nerves. 

This good wife had hardly regained her own com- 
posure. She had run out to the corner of the house, 
during the commotion, calling, “Danool ! Danool ! 
run here quick! The Injins is come, an’ is killin’ of 
Mrs. Janes;” and as she ran up to them at the 
spring she joined in her husband’s mind. “No, Mrs. 
Janes, we won’t be safe in the towns by the river, an’ 
we’ll jest haf to make the best of this swarmp.” She 
spoke rather loud, heart fast beating and her breath 


88 


The Legend of McNutt. 

short from running. “Now, Danny, we’ll jest«go with 
you anywhere, an’ tote all we can, if you’ll move up 
higher, or somewhere.” 

“Don’t talk so loud, Patsy, or that skunk'll hear 
what you’re sayin’ an’ follow us on, for he ain’t no dis- 
tance off out thar,” he said to his wife gently, his 
hand resting on her shoulder. 

Then she slapped her hand to her lips and peered 
about with her dark, brown eyes wide open. It was 
rare that she ever opened her eyes so wide. She was 
one of those pensive, trustful creatures whose natural 
habit it is to peep meekly about from under half-raised 
lids — one whose acquaintance no one easily cultivates, 
but whom all learn to love on long familiarity. Care of 
late had so deepened her intense concentration that 
only such added care as now stirred her could break 
her sameness of expression. But withal Mrs. Pluet 
was a beautiful brunette, slim, well-rounded, and 
graceful, and under more favorable circumstances her 
comeliness would have done her honor. 

Mr. Pluet feared he had spoken too emphatically to 
her, and he added gently : “But he did run off, for fear 
we’d follow him.” 

Too true it was, however, that she had spoken too 
loud ; for the crafty, vicious Indian was now thorough- 
ly aware that he would have to fight for his prize, and 
was still lingering not far distant, rather hoping they 
would sally out after him. Mr. Pluet was too wary 
for such a reckless pursuit ; besides, his wife reminded 
them that dinner was about ready ; and a peal of dis- 
tant thunder warned all of an approaching storm, 
which, from the imperfect glimpses of the clouds, 
viewed through the thick tree tops, threatened to be 


The Legend of McNutt. 89 

unusually severe. All parties now busied themselves 
with helping Mrs. Janes to the house with her clothes 
and preparing for the midday meal, that it might be 
over ere the storm broke upon them. 

Red Elm’s fatal infatuation for the innocent, faith- 
ful, beautiful lady was that day kindled to a burning 
madness, which he could not control, but which con- 
trolled his every plan and energy. He had sat in the 
cane that day, near her washing place, and watched her 
with fast beating heart, as she dipped and rubbed the 
clothes with sleeves rolled above her elbows, ex- 
posing an ideal white arm, or occasionally stooped 
far over the trough, revealing a perfectly formed ankle 
incased in a fleckless white English hose, of very 
soft and delicate finish, and a used pair of easy, 
low-quartered shoes. He watched her most intently 
when she dipped water from the spring, being but fif- 
teen feet away and just below, where he could discern 
the movement of every limb as she squatted on the 
thick puncheon above and reached, sidewise, down 
into the crystal fountain, all unconscious of the pres- 
ence of other eyes. Thus he kindled his fiery lust 
into such a flame that it burned out his reason and all 
but paralyzed the innate powers of natural nerve re- 
straint by which animal life is conserved. He was 
forever a criminal at heart, and needed only the re- 
moval of buffeting restraints or a little further stifling 
of animal fears to become practically worse than a 
beast. But, for the time at least, he suppressed his 
rising passions and employed gentle tactics, yet in- 
wardly more resolved than ever to secure his idol to 
himself or die. 

The meal was soon spread, and at the table Mrs. 


go The Legend of McNutt. 

Janes talked incessantly of the dreadful nightmare 
of vagabondage depicted in the face of the savage, the 
diabolical schemes he was capable of' concocting, the 
insolent arrogance of his presumptions, and the per- 
fidious desperation with which he disregarded all obli- 
gation and all relation so that he was no longer to be 
trusted — no, not for a moment. She could hardly 
trust herself to sleep again, she thought ; and O how 
she wished for the return of her husband with his 
brave band of volunteers, that they might scour the 
country for the demon savage and bring him to con- 
finement or chase him from the country. And with 
many other evidences of a horrified but rebounded 
spirit and animation did she spend her superlative ex- 
pletives in genuine feminine style, until, between her 
fears and the revivifying of her hairbreadth escapes, 
she had taken but little to eat when the circle about 
the table board was about breaking up and the van- 
puffs of the storm fanned about the house. 

The door must be closed, and the table quickly 
cleared away, for an uncommon darkness gathered 
about, giving the somber stillness the significance of 
a pall of inexpressible but conscious dread. Sudden 
flashes of vivid lightning, with its blinding glare, 
painted the sombrous atmosphere sable black by con- 
trast; the painful interim, in which the soul stands 
still and waits for nature’s clarion reports of rebound- 
ing casualties, seemed an age, until all the firmament 
and surface of the earth quavered and vibrated under 
the onrolling, leaping, plunging crags of muttering, 
grumbling sound waves, which tried to their very 
foundations “the things which are shaken the low, 
half-audible, murmuring roar, as if the continuous es- 


The Legend of McMutt. 91 

caping of the guttural complaints of some hoarse- 
voiced, encaverned cyclops, strikes dismay into the 
very breath of consciousness and all but paralyzes 
thought, while nature groans under pressure of too 
much weight and wrenching. Then came the advance 
shower of large, sparse, and rattling raindrops, the 
premonitors of heaven’s overflowing musketry; the 
dry leaves leaped and creened and settled, the dry 
boards clapped, clattered, and clamored; while be- 
wooded animals scampered to their shelters or 
drooped, crestfallen, beneath some swaying bower, 
and all other noise was drowned in the deafening rum- 
mage of the onsweeping hurricane. Now the tempest 
beat upon the house, and the deadening, moaning roar 
changed to a dashing, whisking, raging, dismal howl, 
punctured by darting thunderbolts and pulsated by 
clapping peals of crying, tearing jolts of proximate 
thunder. The lumbering thud of falling trees, the 
sweeping crash of torn branches, and the soughing 
buzz of resisting, bending forest giants evinced the 
force of the storm, which bent to the surface of the 
ground all flexible growth and tried to the depth of 
their root beds the sturdier soldiers of the forest 
realm. Now and again the very concave vault of heav- 
en seemed rent in twain by the splitting thunderbolts, 
instantaneous with white, blinding flashes and close, 
deafening crashes, which all but stilled the heartbeats 
and sent a thrill of indescribable sensation through 
the whole quivering frames of the party. The children 
gathered closer under their mothers’ encircling arms ; 
while they, with blanched cheeks and prayerful hearts 
whispered that God would take care of his little 
ones. The men folk changed from side to side of the 


92 The Legend of McNutt. 

building, on the alert for impending danger, and 
cringed when the tremor foretokened its possible 
overthrow. The rain came in torrents, driven be- 
tween the logs and running in rills down the sides 
of the walls. None of the inmates were able to make 
themselves heard, if they had words to describe their 
feelings or dared express their fears, for this was one 
of the most terrific hurricanes which ever visits those 
parts. It seemed that its continuity would never 
cease and that each successive, onsurging dash was 
harder than the one before it. Verily they all felt that 
they would be blown away. 

Presently tnere was a surfeit and a lull, human hopes 
began to kindle and great trees to straighten and settle 
on their bases, and all tried to believe that the wind 
was slackening. Mrs. Pluet expressed the common 
sentiment in reverential gratitude with: “Now, thank 
God, I hope we are saved !” 

Her husband was not so cheerful over prospects, 
for he heard a deeper sound to the westward than 
comported with perfect safety, and he said : “Another 
dash or two, and I think all will be over, and we will 
then be saved or lost. We can’t tell” — But ere 
he could be heard again the last stroke of the storm 
came, as a Herculean blow of final effort, with a 
crash and all was past. The rain came pouring in 
through the loft, and light could be seen between the 
ill-fitted puncheons of the upper floor. Mr. Pluet 
realized that the top of his house was gone. 

By gathering under canvas and in corners the wom- 
en and children kept tolerably dry. The rain soon 
slacked, and Sandy and his master, enwrapped in tal- 
mas, pushed out to explore the extent of damages. 


93 


The Legend of McNutt. 

A tangled spectacle met their view, and they could but 
stand and watch and wonder. The receding storm 
was leaving havoc in its wake, of tangled jungles and 
cross-lapping tree tops, with many uprooted trees and 
scattered branches. The rear section of the cloud 
seemed the playground of the prince and rulers of the 
darkness and the air, or the battle ground of the 
storied gods of ancient Troy. Reverberating thunders 
appeared to upheave and disembowel mountains above 
its rim, while sheets of red lightning seemed to paint 
the lurid elements into fields and seas of blood, and 
distant eastern hills were as a sounding-board from 
which resounded all the grosser elements of the lum- 
bering storm through the very caves of the rugged, 
vaulted clouds and back again along its beaten path. 

No more trying ordeal ever overshadows the life 
of man, and no sublimer spectacle ever addresses his 
natural senses, than the majestic march of a terrific 
thunderstorm; and possibly no purer swells of grati- 
tude will ever rise in his rebounding soul than when 
the dread experience passes and he finds his family 
whole, unless it be when he enters through the pearly 
gates into the God-built city and, amid its radiant 
splendors and reglancing glories, finds all his house- 
hold safe in the Father’s home. 

In an hour the sun was out and it was five o’clock. 
Nature calmed and dripped, gleamed and smiled, as 
if her bosom had not but recently been convulsed 
and almost torn open by the heavings of the storm, 
when she grappled like some doting mother, lest a 
savage horde wrench her children from her arms, and 
wailed because she could not save them all, weep : ng 
in torrential floods over the fallen of her succored 


94 The Legend of McNutt. 

like some Rachel that would not be comforted be- 
cause her children were not. Thus doth both nature 
and grace put on brighter and more hopeful moods, 
for now to the eastward a more than semicircle of 
seven-hued glory spanned the dismal background with 
hopes of a brighter day to-morrow. 

Fortunately all of Mrs. Janes’s wearing apparel was 
downstairs, and, as it had been wash day with her, she 
had disrobed her bed of all but heavy coverlets, which, 
with the hastily provised cane leaf mattress, were all 
that remained aloft to be drenched. These were 
spread in the evening sun, now steaming hot, on the 
west side, and with other dampened garments and the 
yet unsunned wash fabrics were well-dried by sun- 
down. Mr. Pluet and his able assistant hoisted enough 
of the upper story and roof back in place to shelter 
them, and by nightfall they were comfortably housed 
again. 

But O the deep sense of the need of companion- 
ship that depressed Mrs. Janes that night. One never 
feels this need so much as when involuntarily and con- 
tinuously deprived of its delights. Not three months 
had passed, but they lengthened into years in Mrs. 
Janes’s experiences. A close student of the human 
spirits could easily have observed the change in her 
state, more marked now, since the lake shore and 
wash place incidents. Mr. and Mrs. Piuet noted the 
wan symptoms rapidly gathering, and often sought to 
divert her to lighter subjects; but she could not be 
held long to interest or pleasure in other matters 
while her heart yearned and ached under this en- 
forced separation from her husband and the conse- 
quent heavy load. Her instant starts at the noise of 


95 


The Legend of McNutt. 

a shaking leaf were not all from fear of the redskin, 
while that rarely left her now. She began to hope 
that some unusual good fortune would end the war 
in favor of the American cause, and that her Henry 
would surprise her by slipping on her some happy 
day soon, as he often did when they were together ; 
and she began, spontaneously, to spend seasons in 
earnest, silent prayer that such might be the case. 

In her English life there had been little devotion, 
except in the use of the ritual of the Establishment, 
and that had been more of form than feeling. Never 
before had she felt so sensibly her utter dependence 
on a higher power, and she doubted if she had ever 
prayed a real prayer before. It is so with us all. No 
mere form of words, without the accompaniment of 
the hungering dependency of deep soul needs, is ef- 
fectual, fervent prayer, whatever men may fondly 
imagine or vestured theologians teach ; and such im- 
portunate devotion, however broken or disjointed its 
expression, never issues without due recompense, for 
the God of the sentient spirit understands and heeds 
in whatever form, 

“The soul’s sincere desire, 

Uttered or unexpressed; 

The motion of a hidden fire 
That trembles in the breast.” 

We may also observe, in passing, the reason why 
Protestant Christianity has ever flourished t r fti r 
in frontier countries than older and more settled ec- 
clesiasticisms ; while, as a country grows old and set- 
tled its spiritual habits become more staid, and so 
ritualism and sacerdotalism ascend. In the primitive 
condition men are thrown into more direct communion 


g6 The Legend of McNutt. 

with God, partly by their isolated abodes and partly * 
by the absence of priest and ritual, custom and system. 
In this state, these formalities practiced by more set- 
tled if not more godly people, soon become the sub- 
jects of prejudice and contempt and are abandoned, 
in part or in toto, as vain and fanciful superfluities; 
while the new mode, or no mode, takes the most prac- 
tical form popularly springing from real exigencies of 
the souls of men, which after all is the only true and 
vital form of human piety. But as the brow and 
crown of an ecclesiasticism begets the badge of ac- 
cumulated centuries, it gravitates, not to say degen- 
erates, more to form and superabundance of ritualism, 
with attendant poverty of life and power. Again, the 
fewer men there are in a country the more need is 
felt for reciprocity of trustworthy cooperation, and the 
more reliance is placed on honor and real, true man- 
hood ; while a superfluity of inhabitants carries with it 
a consequent “superfluity of naughtiness. ,, 

But without reasoning through these things, rni 
scarcely knowing how or why she did, Mrs. Sarah 
Janes often prayed very earnestly, and when she did 
she always felt strengthened and encouraged. With- 
out it at times she could hardly have breathed. 


CHAPTER VII. 

Stranger, these gloomy boughs 
Had charms for him; and here he loved to sit, 

His only visitant a straggling sheep, 

The stonechat, or a glancing sandpiper; 

And on these barren rocks, with fern and heath 
And juniper, and thistle sprinkled o’er, 

Fixing his downcast eye, he many an hour 
A morbid pleasure nourished, tracing here 
An emblem of his own unfruitful life; 

And, lifting up his head, he then would gaze 
On the more distant scene — how lovely ’tis 
Thou seest — and he would gaze till it became 
Far lovelier, and his heart could not sustain 
The beauty, still more beauteous. — Wordsworth. 

The evening was spent in discussing the details of 
the new move. Mr. Pluet had his trip all in his mind 
before the recent scare from the Indian, and took ad- 
vantage of this to do what he regretted not having 
done at first — settle nearer where the cypress brakes, 
ere this, had given him profitable employment — so the 
discussion was not to settle a plan, but to arrange its 
details. Everything must be gotten ready to start 
early the second morning, and that, if possible, with- 
out acquainting Red Elm with their designs. The 
following day was spent in calking up the boats and 
mending sails and oars, and in carrying to the river in 
bags such things as would not create suspicion and 
as could be left secluded in the cane overnight. The 
women and children went back and forth to the river 
with Mr. Pluet on a mock fishing excursion, but in fact 
to be near him while he patched his rigging. 

7 


98 The Legend of McNutt. 

By this method they had no fear of Red Elm’s un- 
dertaking a kidnaping, for they knew his own crafti- 
ness would lead him to think they were trying to decoy 
him into a conflict in order to kill him. As all parties 
knew he had watched them on one fishing expedition, 
he thought, of course, they might expect him to repeat 
it, and so catch him. So the very grounds of their sat- 
isfaction were, at the same time, the occasion for his 
suspicion, and, as they expected, he came not near. 
Then, too, Sandy’s apparent unconcern struck the In- 
dian as intended for a bait to draw him out, and was 
a real safeguard against his coming, while, in very 
deed, the negro kept up his whistle and snatches of 
song to brace his spirits, and he invariably carried his 
gun and dogs on trips to and from the house, with gun 
habitually presented for an emergency, it being some- 
times necessary to use the horn to keep the dogs from 
lazing at the house. 

About nightfall, after the boats were mended, and 
when the party were seated quietly on a long, dry log 
near the river, engaged in a barely audible conversa- 
tion, Mr. Pluet’s attention was drawn to a moving ob- 
ject far down the river at the furthermost crescent of 
the big bend. He first thought of Captain Janes, re- 
turning from the war, and mentioned that fact, cau- 
tioning the company to keep quiet and on the look- 
out for redcoats. One could easily detect the telltale 
color playing hide and seek over Mrs. Janes’s face as 
she anxiously peered through the tasseled foliage of 
cane and willow to get a glimpse, with accelerated 
heart beats. “No, indeed, it isn’t Captain Janes !” she 
said vehemently. “Far from it! for it’s none other 
than that abominable redskin.” 


The Legend of McNutt. 99 

‘'Shore ’nough!” ejaculated Mr. Pluet. “Now we’ll 
be up to his maneuvers, an’ git him ’efore he does us, 
if he comes up.” 

The party were sent back a few paces while Mr. 
Pluet and Sandy took up completely secluded positions 
near the edge of the water, parting the willows with 
their gun barrels and watching the Indian below. 
They were all disappointed. Red Elm, concluding 
that all had gone in, now that quiet had been restored, 
either from fear of wild beasts or to avoid too close 
vigilance since the recent episode, gave up the chase 
for the day, and under cover of twilight was making his 
way to his lair, which was beyond the river. 

Mr. Pluet thought he could now solve the mystery 
of his failure to find any trace of him when he so dili- 
gently sought his wigwam a few weeks before. But 
in reality the Indian had left with his gang, but had 
taken the cover of the forest several miles down and 
then got aboard the boat with them, for even then he 
was afraid to be seen by Mr. Pluet, after failing to 
keep his promise or send the pledge. He had con- 
veyed them to the Mississippi and across that stream 
before returning to the scene of the camps, and had 
stealthily put the river between him and the palefaces, 
for he was equally afraid of being surprised by them 
at night. 

No further harm was feared from Red Elm that 
night, after they watched him carefully stow his boat 
in its hiding and then cross an open some thirty or 
forty yards from the opposite shore, going to his wig- 
wam. This, however, accounted for his fowling piece 
never being heard in the woods by the whites, for he 


L.ofC. 


ioo The Legend of McNutt. 

hunted eastward and at a safe distance, so as to entirely 
conceal his presence. 

Plans were soon concluded. The women and chil- 
dren were to sleep during the early hours of the night, 
while the men carried everything to the river and 
loaded the boats ; before dawn they were to start north 
on their second voyage. Accordingly supper was soon 
over and a sufficient ration for the next day packed up 
and set aside. All went upstairs to sleep but the two 
men. A gun was left with the family and the dogs 
fastened up inside the lower room and left to guard 
each time a trip was made. Finally all the household 
fixtures were on shore and one boat loaded, when Mr. 
Pluet sent Sandy back to sleep, while he took the gun 
in his lightest boat and reconnoitered the Indian more 
closely before attempting to sail under the possible 
range of his gun. 

Cautiously rowing down to the red man’s boat, which 
he found with some difficulty, he discovered that it was 
either locked or fastened in some secret manner which 
he didn’t understand. Fearing lest he should disturb 
its owner, he simply prized out the staple in the end of 
its prow, with the stub of a bayonet he kept in his 
boat to stick down and fasten to the shore in the ab- 
sence of a convenient tree, which was easily accom- 
plished without noise. He now embarked on it and, 
dragging his own boat by the buckskin lariat, pulled off 
to the middle of the river. When he was on the far side 
and under the deep shadow of the timber he paused 
to consider what was best to do with the boat. If he 
set it adrift, it might be recovered ere it left the vicinity, 
as the river was low and it was now past midnight. If 
taken along, it would be useless and in the way of prog- 


The Legend of McNutt. ioi 

ress. To hide it elsewhere would be folly, for the In- 
dian would search both banks far up and down before 
abandoning hope of it. Suddenly a splash in the 
stream at the eastern shore caused Mr. Pluet to bate 
his breath and noiselessly seize his gun. Was it the 
Indian, with aroused suspicions, on the lookout for his 
boat? Or was it some animal crept up to drink and, 
instantly discovering or scenting the white man’s pres- 
ence, bounding away in fright? He sat very still 
for half an hour, but saw nothing, then pulled up to his 
own landing as noiselessly as possible. There he split 
open the Indian’s boat and dragged the parts out over 
logs into the cane. When they came back to the river 
next morning the two men carried the split-up boat 
fifty yards away, and bestowed it in the rubbish of a 
fallen tree top in the edge of the great canebrake. 

The movers need not have been in such a rush to get 
off before day had they known Red Elm’s movements, 
for he arose about the time the men were well asleep 
and made off east to a deer stand, where he expected to 
secure rations for his next few days’ journey; since, 
when he heard the palefaces say they would have to 
move, he determined to move also, but thought it would 
be several days before they could get ready. The 
waning moon was just coming in sight above the east- 
ern timber line, at about 2 130 in the morning, when the 
Indian plunged into the forest eastward in quest of 
game; and the waning afternoon was equally as far 
spent when he returned and went to seek his boat. 
Finding the boat had been removed, he supposed they 
suspected all his plot, and was much outdone and ex- 
cited ; for first he had thought his lodge was completely 
unknown to them, and, second, he feared Mr. Pluet was 


102 The Legend of McNutt. 

laying in wait for him, and that he might, even then, 
be within range of his gun. He was completely non- 
plused. 

But being in ignorance of the red man’s plans, the 
whole arrangement for the move was carried out. The 
men snatched short naps before they must rise, but the 
women were up in good time, and made everything 
ready, allowing Mr. Pluet to prolong his sleep as long 
as comported with an early departure. By noon they 
had traveled fully half the distance to their destination, 
sailing where the south wind was favorable, and rowing 
around bends and in counter directions ; and by sun- 
down they pulled up at the noted Cottonwood Bend, 
already mentioned, and which soon after became a cen- 
tral point for squatters, and in years to come a favorite 
landing for trading vessels. This may have been the 
first landing ever made there by white people. 

Here they spent the night, and on the morrow made 
good their arrangements to spend a week or two, until 
the new retreat could be definitely located and a trail 
cut to it. Calculating approximately the distance they 
had come by river and the number and length of bends 
they had passed, Mr. Pluet correctly supposed he had 
sailed above the point at which he intended to take up 
his permanent abode; yet he was as near to it as he 
could have gotten by river, for it was quite ten miles 
to his favorite lake from any point he had passed on 
his upward voyage. But with his general knowledge 
of the geography and topography of the great cane- 
brake country, he was not later than the second day 
striking into the lowlands between the river and his 
lake ; and, passing down the open cypress brake, where 
the cane grew short or not at all, soon came to its head. 


The Legend of McNutt. 103 

Sandy was left to guard the camp and prepare a place 
for bestowing their provisions, which could not all be 
carried at once to their new home. These consisted of a 
very plentiful supply of meal and salt, with some sugar 
and tea and a few staple family drugs. Mr. Pluet’s 
frugality had also provided some garden seeds. They 
ensconced their camp a full quarter from the shore, 
leaving nothing to reveal their hiding. Landing on a 
large log, one end of which lay in the water and the 
other far up the bank, they parted the cane and went 
from this a hundred yards, into a green briar open, 
thence along this three hundred yards farther, where 
they stretched canvas in the center of a pocket or island 
of canebrake of something above an acre, surrounded 
by the green briar open, near a hundred yards in width 
on every side. 

The receptacle for the summer’s supplies was con- 
structed on this knoll, by digging a pit ten feet square 
and five feet deep, which was walled up from the bot- 
tom by a pole pen cut to fit just inside, and arched over 
with rib poles, very much on the primitive style of 
building cabins. In this the goods were placed and 
covered with cypress bark, and over this was thrown 
an abundance of loose, black earth, and all was cov- 
ered with the dead and dying cane, green cane pulled 
over on it, and on top of all a bushy holly tree was 
felled, by loosening the roots and pulling it over, so 
as to give the impression of its having blown over 
on a heap of crushed and bending cane. An opening 
was arranged for at one end, which was hidden by the 
rubbish and came to look like the scuttle of an animal 
retreat, where Sandy scrambled under and out again. 
Only a rain was needed, after they should move away, 


104 The Legend of McNutt. 

to obliterate their tracks and deceive even the most sus- 
pecting. 

On the third day Sandy was put to trimming out a 
trail. The cane was of the heaviest and longest to be 
found in the Delta, along the river front and as far out 
as to the lowlands of Quiver, a sluggish bayou-river 
which coursed along nearly parallel with the Talla- 
hatchie, from five to fifteen miles away. The black 
sand ridges here are very fertile and very extensive, 
and are perfectly adapted to the luxuriant growth of 
cane. Sandy had toiled steadily, but crossed only two 
of the narrowest but heaviest of these ridges by noon. 
He saw two black bears amble off leisurely into the cane 
as he emerged from the second brake into a narrow but 
lengthy opening that ran at right angles from the river. 
But the negro had a clear trail back to camp and his 
cane knife in his hand, with an ax near by, and he could 
afford to stand a moment or two to watch bruin’s 
waddling escape. He stood gazing down the open to 
the . northwest, thinking perchance more large game 
might be in view, when, at some distance, and half hid- 
den by the turn of the open, he beheld something that 
fixed his gaze. At first glimpse it appeared to be only 
a huge log or stump, seen through a sprinkle of foilage, 
but in a moment he saw it move, and became excited, 
as it was larger than a bear or deer, or even a cow ; but 
the latter was entirely out of the question, as none could 
be imagined to be near. With a resolution to try to 
make out its nature, Sandy stood firm in his tracks 
till presently it moved again, this time clearly out 
into view. What was the African’s relief, wonder, 
and delight when he plainly saw a large black mule, 


The Legend of McNutt. 105 

browsing on the tender nimber-will, he couldn’t have 
told. He knew not how to believe his senses. 

But was it gentle or wild? Or, after all, might it 
not be some wild quadruped very much in the form of 
a horse, of which he had heard Mrs. Janes telling the 
children? But no, it turned its head toward him, 
and its unusual ears betrayed its origin ; it certainly was 
a mule. Still there was no way to hem it up and catch 
it, even if it were broken. These questions soon set- 
tled themselves; for when Sandy, not knowing what 
else to do, whistled one of his familiar horse calls, 
“Whew, whew,” the mule raised its head high and 
brayed, as if coming to its master’s barn for feed. The 
negro and mule now walked, meeting each other, Sandy 
keeping up his whistle calls and the mule not inclined 
to shy or break away, as if they "were mutual acquaint- 
ances. Sandy soon mounted his catch and rode away 
to camp with only a small vine around the mule’s under 
jaw, with a feeling of delight rarely surpassed by one 
of his race in such a position. 

The commotion in the camp created by the appear- 
ance of the negro and the mule was a genuine recrea- 
tion to all. Every one came out and examined the ani- 
mal, while Mr. Pluet proceeded to make a headstall 
of deerskin, and bend into a bit a large wire that had 
come on some package or barrel as they left Natchez. 
Then they tried the reliableness of “Genette,” for that 
was its name from the first, by placing the boys for a 
ride. Sandy led it around the cane island, with them 
both on the mule’s back, and they came back with hats 
flourishing in the air and shouting vociferously : “She’s 
all right ! H00-00-00 ! Look out for the gran’ show ! 

We’re all right now.” The mule proved to be one 


106 The Legend of McNutt. 

that had broken off from a division of Jackson’s army, 
en route to New Orleans, with the initials “U. S.” on 
the shoulder, and was doubtless trying to make its way 
back to Kentucky or Tennessee, to its old plantation 
home. It was appropriated unceremoniously for the 
family services, and used as a pack mule for numerous 
articles while the trail was being cut, principally for 
carrying Mr. Pluet or the negro to and from the work. 
The salt was a great gratification to the mule, and it 
soon grew hearty and strong, and would feed around 
without leaving. 

Mr. Pluet was ingenious enough to trim out large 
collar-shaped hames of soft wood, binding them togeth- 
er at top and bottom with buckskin, and to arrange 
traces of grass rope, and to hitch Genette to a well- 
built sled with which they hauled nearly all their fix- 
tures to the new home, and with .which Sandy slid 
up most of the fuel for the family use. He and Gen- 
ette became great friends. 

Within less than a month, the two men working 
daily except two or three rainy days, the new domicile 
was roughly ready for occupancy ; and two more weeks 
found the family as snug as they could be made, in rude 
frontier fashion. Busy, dainty hands soon transformed 
the rough interior into as snug and cozy a retreat for 
tired man as could be found in any new country. Many 
coy exhibitions of feminine taste were here wrought 
out bv the ladies, of cane, willow twigs, etc., which 
while all retained “a rustic woodland air,” were gen- 
uine ornaments and conveniences. 

Mr. Pluet, being not far from the brakes in which 
he had made a raft two summers before, and as the sum- 
mer season had about dried up the brakes again, went 


The Legend of McNutt. 107 

on the first day of September westward along the lake 
to Quiver, following the same deer trail he had traveled 
when he made his first exploring visit to the site of his 
present home. Up Quiver he traveled to what is now 
known as Marsh Bayou, where he felled half his raft. 
Farther up he finished a sufficient number of logs for 
a good large raft by the middle of November, going 
from home and returning every day on Genette. San- 
dy was left at home to protect and serve the family, ex- 
cept on bright days in early autumn, when the entire 
group would go out with Mr. Pluet to the cypress 
brakes, and spend the middle of the day angling in the 
crystal waters of the sluggish Quiver for fine bream, 
sun perch, and goggle-eye. On such occasions San- 
dy worked at the logs and his master assisted the la- 
dies and children with their fish fry. The ever-faithful 
Genette was useful for the double service of pack mule 
to carry the culinary necessities and as passenger coach 
for the three children. Little Lizzie rode astride in 
front, Fletcher in the middle, while Nicholas brought 
up the rear. In this style they rode far above the dan- 
ger both of serpents and fatigue. 

A good raft could have been gotten along the lake 
shore near home, but Mr. Pluet didn’t wish to attract 
attention in that direction, nor did he wish to mar the 
beauty and grandeur of the stately fringe that lined the 
course of his quiet lake, for he intended there to build a 
future home, some sweet day, when wars should be 
over; there he hoped to keep his family above high 
water while he plied his chosen occupation. 

Logging can be carried no further than to fell the 
logs in dry weather. They must then be left alone til! 
winter or spring brings sufficient water to float them to- 


108 The Legend of McNutt. 

gether and get them to the river, thence on to their des- 
tination. When this felling task was over and Mr. 
Pluet was waiting for sufficient water to float his logs 
he set about to lay in a stock of supplies for the coming 
season. His route lay to the northeast, along the Tal- 
lahatchie, to the head of navigation. By Christmas- 
tide he had returned to Cottonwood Bend with a small 
flatboat ingeniously constructed of two large and long 
dugouts fastened together, five feet apart, and floored 
over with poplar slabs, all of which had been hewn 
out by his own hands. On this rude boat he floated 
down something like two thousand pounds of corn 
meal and salt, with a meager supply of sugar. Salt 
and sugar cost him dearly, as they must be hauled 
long distances from the East or shipped far around by 
the Mississippi and its tributaries. Corn and water 
mill meal were cheap in the upper country, and his 
English gold coin was current without a question. 

Now, however, his supply of means was almost ex- 
hausted, and, unless the war should close and Captain 
Janes return before another year, they were sure, they 
thought, to be in dreadful straits. Starvation, said 
they, was staring them in the face ; something must be 
done. Selling a raft at New Orleans or anywhere else 
was unthinkable until hostilities should cease and in- 
ternational commerce be restored. 

Sandy and his master, but principally the former, put 
in good time during fair weather after Christmas clear- 
ing up their next year’s garden and truck patch, and 
by spring they had six acres or more in fair shape for 
planting. The frugal landlord had not forgotten to 
lay in a small stock of large eye hoes and plow shapes 


The Legend of McNutt. 109 

while in the upper country. With these the crop was 
fairly well planted and tilled successfully. 

In late spring, after the com was planted, sufficient 
water arose to carry out the logs; in fact, the women 
began to fear an overflow. Mr. Pluet had yielded to 
their request in building his last house, and left off the 
second story because they feared another storm, and 
now, should high water come, they were in doubt for 
their safety — but it didn’t come. 

The logs were gotten to the Quiver, there ganged in 
blocks of ten, and thence conveyed to the Sunflower 
and lashed together by long poles pinned across them 
in sections of fifty. There they were made fast to trees 
out of the current to await an open market. 

In tilling the crop Sandy did the plowing and the 
ladies helped him to chop out and keep down the mut- 
ton cane, which was, in fact, the only natural growtn 
to give them much trouble. Their farming implements 
were all rude and heavy, but with them they worked 
with a will and accomplished their purpose in making 
their first crop on Red Elm Lake. 

Mr. Pluet gave the lake the name Red Elm because, 
he said : “We refugeed here to hide from Red Elm, and 
built our house under this big, sweeping, shady, red 
elm tree ; and if I live here till I die, I want to be buried 
under that other one just below the house in the next 
bend. In later years the name was lost entirely, and 
the lake and country round about took the name “Mc- 
Nutt,” because, said one of the old hunters who died 
years ago: “Right here me and Guv’ner McNutt was 
huntin’ when he kilt the fus an’ las’ black bear he ever 
kilt here, on the only huntin’ spree he ever took in these 
parts.” Whether this tale is plausible or not may be 


no The Legend of McNutt. 

asserted or denied by those better acquainted with the 
history of the rise and fall of old McNutt. Of one 
thing we may be sure, it served as the base of a big bear 
hunt yarn, telling of which seemed never to tire our old 
friend, the hunter. Veracity, you know, is not one of 
the regular bear hunter’s staple commodities, especially 
if hyperbole is not allowed a rare degree of latitude. I 
fear the same might be charged to some of our modern 
fiction mongers if they were forced to produce data and 
testimony for every untamed animal or entity that flits 
through their fertile imaginations ; but, fortunately for 
them, they have the giant “custom” in their favor to 
fight their battles for them. 

The lake remains, however, a “thing of beauty,” and 
bids fair to be “a joy forever.” The conservative taste 
of Mr. Pluet in preserving the stately and picturesque 
cypress along its edges set the key for succeeding gen- 
erations, even to the present time. Some of the cen- 
tury-old relics of the once unbroken fastnesses still line 
its course, and, with the graceful shafts and uniform 
brush-broom foilage of younger growth, add very great 
enchantment to the landscape now viewed from the 
writer’s study window. Scores of deer and several 
black bear have been slain the past year within three 
miles of this beautiful lake, in some instances very much 
to this writer’s pleasure — though this is one of the oldest 
settled sections of the great Delta. 

We must now return for a brief period to follow our 
discomfited Indian. No crafty red man of the forest 
was ever more completely outwitted or more deeply 
concerned over the fact than was Red Elm when, hour 
after hour, he sought in vain for some clue to the direc- 
tion taken by the company he intended to follow. The 


The Legend of McMutt. iii 

remains of his boat were discovered the same after- 
noon of their departure and his return to camp, for he 
swam the river late to search about the deserted home 
of the object of his dreams. On finding it he reasoned 
that they must have returned downstream, and had, 
therefore, attempted to deceive him by pulling the boat 
up the river as if they had gone that way ; thus to dis- 
concert him and delay pursuit. All this had really 
passed through Mr. Pluet’s mind while deciding the 
disposition of the boat. In fact, it was just the reason 
why the boat had not been set afloat after being bursted 
open, for then the Indian would surely think they had 
gone above ; for, with all the cunning of the Indian, he 
can’t outwit your wide-awake Caucasian who knows 
his habit of mind and is acquainted with his tactics. 

Seeing that their boats were gone, he sought them 
far and near, but found them not, parting willows where 
he could not see without it, and scrutinizing the oppo- 
site shores as he warily moved along. And now that 
they were gone and night had overtaken him, he was 
free to search about their former lodge, and there he 
spent the night. On the very bed of cane tops which 
Mrs. Janes had used under her English bedclothing, 
instead of a straw or shavings mattress, and on which 
she and her children had spent the nights of their so- 
journ there, he lay, with the trapdoor closed behind 
him, but did not sleep. 

He thought over and over again the fond dreams he 
had entertained of having her all to himself and spend- 
ing his life alone with her. Now that he was on her 
very couch, where was she? He racked his brain in 
a vain effort to imagine. Perhaps by this time she was 
far, far down toward the Mississippi, anxiously but 


I 12 


The Legend of McNutt. 

fearfully looking out for him. Then he would spring 
almost to sitting in a half determination to fly at once 
after her on foot. Why had he not carried her away 
two days before while at the spring ? She was not too 
heavy for his strength. Then visions of her determined 
gaze and of the “dirk” which she had drawn upon him 
reappeared to him and stilled his blood like a nightmare 
and then convulsed him to a start. In one of these rest- 
less scrambles he felt something firm, like a stiff joint of 
cane, under his hand. Quickly drawing back his hand, 
he felt a slight tingle of pain, and, placing his finger to 
his mouth in the dark, perceived that it was bleeding. 
Searching carefully now, he discovered that same dirk 
which had so menaced him, and which, in her haste, had 
been overlooked or forgotten by Mrs. Janes where she 
habitually placed it under the side of her bed every 
night. “Ah, now,” thought he, “when I overtake her 
again Til cower her with this same knife; then she’ll 
think as much of me as I do of her,” and he was still 
more than ever determined to secure and conquer her. 
Her very bravery made him rave all the greater for her 
companionship, and imagine himself companionably 
suited to such a creature. He had no doubt but that 
a commensurate show of force, once he had her in his 
power, would easily reconcile her to himself, for he was 
ignorant of the radical difference between the one he 
lusted after and the women of his own race in this re- 
spect. The latter are taught from babyhood to yield 
every point to the whims of the harsher sex, while with 
the former the reverse is true, to say nothing of racial 
antipathy. However he may have thought of these 
things, if he thought at all, the further the night ad- 
vanced the more he burned for her, until almost dawn, 


The Legend of McNutt. 113 

when he lapsed into a pitiful slumber and dreamed he 
had secured his prize. In his gloating and lustful im- 
agination he enjoyed a few brief moments with her as 
really as if he had pressed her to himself in very deed. 

With the rising sun he climbed down from the loft 
and proceeded to dig him another boat, which he did 
during the day from a large and long poplar “cut” 
which had no doubt floated down many miles from the 
head waters of some of the numerous tributaries of the 
Yazoo. By the dawn of the second morning he was 
ready to float on his quest for the Wild Rose, which 
was to continue fruitless for many months. Taking 
on board all his portable accouterments and provi- 
sions, he set sail for Natchez. He pulled downstream 
all day with his new paddles, and was so tired at night 
that he lay flat down in the dugout and slept, still float- 
ing along downstream. At daybreak he had floated 
into the Mississippi. There were standing on shore at 
Walnut Hills then a mere military outpost near the 
mouth of the Yazoo, a picket guard of half-dozen, 
whose duty it was to scan the river and see that none 
passed or repassed without evidences of civility or 
friendship. 

Red Elm’s canoe was so neatly packed, and he lay 
so low in it with skins drawn over him to break off the 
night, as to appear at a distance as only a floating log ; 
but as it neared and afforded close inspection it could 
be seen that it was a loaded canoe. No other conclu- 
sion could be reached but that some one must be float- 
ing in it, perhaps an English spy. The picket hailed, 
but no response came, for the Indian had lost much 
sleep of late and was still steeped in slumber. A sec- 
ond hail from the picket brought no more response, and 
8 


1 14 The Legend of McNutt. 

it was followed by a ring of his fowling piece that 
brought all of his comrades to their posts. The aim 
was directed at the middle of the canoe, and merely 
grazed the bottom of Red Elm’s foot enough to burn 
the skin to a blister. He awoke with such a leap and 
agitation as to capsize this precarious bark, only grasp- 
ing his gun in time to save it from sinking to the bot- 
tom. When he had recovered his equilibrium suffi- 
ciently to survey his surroundings he struggled to his 
boat and headed it in to shore, swimming and holding 
on to it. His scant supplies were made fast to his 
boat, and so he soon rounded to shore in tolerably 
whole condition. No sooner, however, did he take 
his feet from beneath the water than all the agonies 
of a severe burn set up in his wounded foot, which gave 
the soldier boys a good spree of merriment. 

After the Indian had inquired of them whether the 
pursued had passed down, and learned that two or three 
boats had been seen to coast down the opposite shore 
the day before, he felt sure it must be his former neigh- 
bors, and in two days more he landed a short distance 
above Natchez. 

The Indian spent the balance of the year in a vain 
search in every conceivable direction, or seclusion 
in the vicinity of Natchez, for some clue to the where- 
abouts of those he wished to come upon. The winter 
he spent there, going somewhere near the deserted 
Pluet home nearly every day, to see if perchance they 
might return there for comfort, as the weather was 
unusually severe r or that latitude. No one at Natchez 
knew of his errand, he being simply looked upon as 
a friendly and harmless fragment of the extinct hordes 
of aborigines, and often employed by the villagers to 


The Legend of McNutt. 115 

go on errands of different moment to adjacent set- 
tlements. This confidence he courted with fidelity as 
serving his present purposes. 

But with the return of spring he abandoned hope 
of their return to Natchez, and determined to seek 
them through the hill country east and north. Accord- 
ingly, he sauntered off up the Big Black to his famil- 
iar hunting grounds, and thence traveled from neigh- 
borhood to distant neighborhood, among the sparsely 
settled white people, telling as he went that he had 
news for Mrs. Janes and her children from Captain 
Janes, who, he said, had sent for them to come to New 
Orleans. In this way he enlisted the confidence and 
cooperation of the unsuspecting settlers in finding his 
way from one settlement to another ; and through their 
reports and the exaggerated reiterations of them by 
their descendants may be discerned the sources from 
which the data and facts of his detour were brought 
to the knowledge of the writer. 

By the coming of May again Red Elm had made 
a satisfactory search through the inhabited parts of 
this territory and found himself at its end on the east 
bank of the Mississippi, only a few miles below the 
mouth of the Yazoo. He had begun to suspect that he 
had lost a great deal of time, but he was well tired, and 
resolved to camp near the river till he could gain some 
clue, or at least rest up awhile. 

Some weeks passed in this way, and the Indian was 
about ready to embark for a trip to New Orleans on 
a trading boat that lay at Walnut Hills. He had ob- 
tained from the military commander at that post a pass- 
port, or certificate of friendliness, before the captain of 
the boat would admit him, and had paid his passage 


n6 The Legend of McNutt. 

with pelt preparatory to starting next morning. He 
still slept in his wigwam below the military post, in- 
tending to push out in his canoe and lash on to the 
boat as it came downstream. 

It was early on this bright June morning when Red 
Elm hastily arose from his lair and hurried to the bluff 
overlooking the river, to see if his boat was in progress. 
His eyes were met by a strange sight for those days. 
His vision was not yet clear and there was a light fog 
on the river, and he was forced to look a second time 
to reassure himself ; but, sure enough, there was a raft 
floating down the great river, and on the center of it 
a small shanty built of upright poles weathered and 
covered with cypress bark, and in the narrow doorway 
stood a man. This astonished the Indian very much, 
for he wondered how this could happen so quickly. 
True, he had overheard a dealer at Natchez say he 
would be glad to have some rafts ready for the rush at 
Orleans when the war ended, and the general impres- 
sion was now growing that it would soon occur, as 
some brilliant victories had lately been credited to the 
American navy, and Old Hickory was supposed to be 
massing at New Orleans an army sufficient to defeat 
any force that could be landed from Europe; but that 
had been only in March, and Red Elm wondered how 
or why this raft could have been gotten out so soon. 
A third and more critical scrutiny of the raft and its 
occupant, however, turned his thoughts to other 
things, bated his breath, and all but stilled his pulse. 
The man on board, though some distance off, had a 
familiar appearance, and became, therefore, the sub- 
ject of a very critical Indian examination. Being on 
an elevation, the Indian could inspect closely without 


1 1 7 


The Legend of McNutt. 

being observed by the other. The copperas-colored 
hunting shirt worn by the raftsman was the most 
striking feature recognized at that distance, for the 
raft was not yet as far down as to be even with the 
perch of the red man. It had not long been emerged 
from the mouth of the Yazoo, and was hugging the 
eastern shore, in the counter current of the greater river, 
which, at this particular point clung close up under 
the promontory standing on the sharp crescent of a 
quick bend, thus carrying the raft within one hundred 
yards of the shore. When the raft, a few minutes 
later, drifted by the point and was veering out toward 
mid-river, the current changing as it surged against 
the bluff, the raftsman was recognized as none other 
than Mr. Pluet. 

The first impulse of the Indian was to shoot him 
where he stood, but he had not brought his gun out 
with him, and by the time he secured it and returned 
from his wigwam the raft had drifted so far out as to 
be beyond his range; and for the time, at least, Mr. 
Pluet was safe from his hate and bullet. But again 
Red Elm was puzzled. If Mr. Pluet and his company 
had spent the winter upstream, how did he know that 
rafts could be disposed of in Natchez? If they had 
wintered downstream, how could the work be done so 
quickly after it became in demand? The bare pos- 
sibility fastened in his mind that the work had been 
going on in anticipation of sales, and that some line of 
communication was open, of which he knew nothing, 
by which Mr. Pluet had gained the information, and so 
they must still abide above; at least he could do no 
better than to act upon this hypothesis, since he had 
exhausted all hopes of finding them below. Then 


1 1 8 The Legend of McNutt. 

there was the hope of striking for his prize in the ab- 
sence of her ablest defender, and he acted on this im- 
pulse. 

No time was lost by Red Elm. Making his way 
on foot along the east shore of the Yazoo to the mouth 
of the Sunflower, he there made a raft of logs, fas- 
tened together with vines, and floated across to the west 
bank. On eamining the shore closely at the junction 
of the two streams he was convinced that Mr. Pluet’s 
raft had descended the Sunflower, and he followed 
it up for many miles, noting as he proceeded the infal- 
lible proofs of hang-ups and tie-ups of the raft while 
on the downward trip. After several days had elapsed 
he came to the mouth of the Quiver, where scars on 
trees and jags of log ends against the soft mud shore 
gave Red Elm the direction from which Mr. Pluet had 
brought his raft together. Thence he made his way 
to the brakes, from which it was no trouble to follow 
the trail to the home on Red Elm lake. 

His only care now was to escape being detected in 
the neighborhood by Sandy or his dogs, thinking it best 
all round not to kill either if it could be avoided, as 
that might frustrate his plans of kidnaping and escap- 
ing with the Wild Rose. Several days more wore by, 
while he stealthily hung about the premises in daytime 
and provided his necessities in the bright moonlight 
of the nights, before he could venture close enough 
to her to make a sally and feel his escape probable. It 
was now the season for cultivating corn, and the corn 
in this fresh land was by this time (the middle of June) 
as tall as a man’s waist. The two ladies and Sandy 
were out, with their heavy eye hoes, chopping through 
the corn for the last time preparatory to planting peas, 


The Legend of McNutt. 119 

cornfield beans, navy beans, and whatever other seeds 
they happened to have that would grow in the ripen- 
ing corn. The children were in the shade of one of 
the bushy-topped red elms, specimens of which may yet 
be seen in the vicinity, playing and keeping in view of 
the laborers. So long a time had elapsed since the In- 
dian had shown himself that the whole company began 
to hope that he had been entirely eluded and had left 
in despair. They were growing less cautious on his 
account, and didn’t always carry the gun with them 
to their work. On this particular occasion the gun was 
in the house. They had gone out late to finish the last 
few rows, which remained at the back side of the field 
when the oppressive heat of the forenoon drove them 
to cover. A small task was before them, but the rows 
extended across the entire length of the clearing, north 
and south. 

The event of the whole week, for which Red Elm 
had been patiently waiting, was now about to be real- 
ized. In their busy forgetfulness Mrs. Janes had 
chopped along somewhat in the rear of the other two, 
who were more accustomed to such labor than she, and 
was now at the extreme south end of the rows, and be - 
gan to hoe on the last row at that end just as the other 
two began at the north end on the same row, to meet 
her in the finishing, when they intended to hang up hoes 
and spend some days free from care and labor. All 
were in high spirits and worked with an all-absorbing 
interest. The red man saw some minutes before Mrs. 
Janes reached the end of her row what was about to be 
the situation, and, while her hoe made sufficient noise 
to allow him to creep to a more convenient place with- 
out being heard, he undertook to accomplish that end. 


120 The Legend of McNutt. 

He almost feared she could hear his heart thumping 
against the thoracic prison walls when she paused 
a moment at the instant she dropped her hoe blade 
on to the last row. She raised her head and elanced 
up at the forest, then around toward the laborers at 
the other end, as if specially interested in finishing. 
Sandy was singing a merry song and keeping time 
with the regular stroke of his blade, wholly oblivi- 
ous of the impending sensation. The children were 
chattering and laughing merrily over their sport, the 
boys in turn driving each other, as if plowing corn in 
their mimic farm, calling to each other occasionally: 
“Gee, Genette,” or “Haw dah, now ; you bite dat co’n, 
now, ’f you dare !” 

The Indian’s coveted moment had come. While 
Mrs. Janes was thus leisurely gazing, the glad joy of 
the children refreshed her more than the slight rest she 
realized from leaning with the left hand on the end of 
the hoe handle. She was drawing a long, full breath 
to nerve herself for resuming the labor when a slight 
rustle in the switch cane at her side frightened her. 
Turning suddenly, she dropped the hoe from fright, and 
found herself closely locked in the iron embrace of her 
foe. She was so completely overcome at first that she 
could not scream, and the next moment she was being 
dragged along in the tall cane, her senses almost gone, 
and her breathing obstructed partially by the clamping 
embrace about her chest. 

None beheld from the other end of the rows what had 
occurred, and Red Elm was thinking his victory com- 
plete, with a long time to elapse before he would be 
hunted. But on arousing from her swoon the lady in- 
voluntarily uttered a most piercing, wailing scream. 


The Legend of McNutt. 121 

Instantly the Indian produced the long, keen dirk, which 
she recognized as her own she had overlooked in her 
haste on the night of the last move, and she swooned 
again at threatened death. 

Sandy’s hair almost unkinked in the effort to stand 
on end at hearing the unearthly sound. “Dat’s er pan- 
t’er, sho’, ol’ Miss,” he said, gazing in the direction 
from which the sound issued. 

“Yes, an’ it’s got Mrs. Janes, Sandy; run quick!” 
exclaimed Mrs. Pluet, as she thoughtlessly dropped her 
hoe and ran toward the children. “Run ; you can over- 
take it ’efore it kills her, maybe ; run , Sandy, run!” 

But the African was transfixed in his tracks. He 
was in doubt what to do, and afraid to do anything with- 
out his gun and dogs ; and, heedless of his mistress’s 
commands, he broke off at the top of his speed toward 
the house, calling the dogs. 

The dogs met him before he reached the house, and 
began plunging about in the growing corn, knowing 
there was excitement up, but not being able to realize 
what it meant. Sandy soon emerged from the house 
with gun and horn, and hastened in the direction of the 
commotion, hissing the dogs, which now gained knowl- 
edge of his wishes and plunged ahead of him at full 
tilt. They reached the place where Mrs. Janes’s hoe 
lay ahead of the negro, and were whining and crouch- 
ing about, not willing to enter the forest at all, as was 
their habit. They were as offen used to chase the pan- 
ther to his tree as for anything else in these wild re- 
gions, and their backwardness again nonplused Sandy. 

“What’s you doin’ heah, you slinks ? Why ain’t you 
gwyn on a’ter dat varmunt?” scolded the negro. But 
the dogs still refused to go ahead, and as he pushed out 


122 The Legend of McNutt. 

with gun ready to shoot anything that offered resistance 
the dogs followed. 

“Dat mils’ be dat loafin’ In jin done come back to hunt 
us up,” muttered Sandy under his voice, “cause dat’s 
all dese dogs ebber went back on yit.” 

With this thought in mind he forged ahead, and, on 
crossing a half-dried-up slough twenty yards from the 
clearing he discovered fresh moccasin tracks where the 
Indian, in his haste, had forgotten to avoid the mud. 
The dogs were put on the trail, and they opened up as 
if they knew he wanted them to follow it, but soon re- 
turned with a pleading whine, as if afraid. The negro 
scolded and kicked them till they crept off in the cane, 
but couldn’t be induced to run the fresh trail of the 
fleeing Indian. Sandy now rushed back to the edge 
of the clearing and shouted the facts to Mrs. Pluet, 
who was making her way to the house with the crying 
children clinging to her skirts and hands. 

“Well, Sandy, run after him ! No danger to us here 
now. I’ve got Daniel’s pistol to fight with. You must 
keep on till you find Mrs. Janes ” 

“Yes’m, I is,” was his firm reply, and he now gave 
chase in earnest. 

“Hush cryin’, sweet chil’,” said Mrs. Pluet, as she 
tried to pacify Lizzie ; “it ain’t no gypsy got mamma ; 
its Red Elm, the In jin, an’ he won’t kill her, for he loves 
your mamma. We’ll find her for you again.” 

This last sentence she forced, for she couldn’t believe 
it herself. And now that her husband was away, what 
would she do? The stifling thought was as much as 
she could bear up under, and, but for the consolation of 
the children, she would have broken down and wept 
like one of them. What could she do? Simply noth- 


123 


The Legend of McNutt. 

ing in the world but just remain and take care of the 
children, which she found to be the most trying ordeal 
of her experience, both from possible harm to them- 
selves and the great need of the abducted lady. The 
hours of suspense which followed to her seemed longer 
than any corresponding length of time in her history. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

To sit on rocks; to muse o’er flood and fell; 

To slowly trace the forest’s shady scene, 

Where things that own not man’s dominion dwell, 

And mortal foot hath ne’er or rarely been; 

To climb the trackless mountain all unseen, 

With a wild flock that never needs a fold; 

Alone o’er steeps and foaming falls to lean — 

This is not solitude; ’tis but to hold 
Converse with Nature’s charms and view her 
stores unrolled. — Byron. 

As Sandy called to his mistress he was faintly heard 
by Mrs. Janes, having come to her senses in the In- 
dian’s arms, after swooning for near two minutes, dur- 
ing which time she had been carried fud a hundred 
paces farther into the forest. Making an effort to 
wrench herself from him and uttering a faint call for 
Sandy, she was again buffeted by the drawn dirk and 
a threat that if she screamed again she would be killed. 
All her strength and determination returned now, and 
she made a desperate effort to break away from the 
savage, to no avail. His grasp was powerful and he 
was rested, besides his being thoroughly determined 
to carry out his long-cherished purpose of making 
complete his victory. After this vain effort for release 
she despaired of that source of escape, and clung to 
the only hope remaining — succor from her friends. 

No further resistance to his holding was offered, 
only so far as to frustrate any of the Indian’s evil de- 
signs on her person; for, although Mrs. Janes real- 
ized that she was in the Indian’s power to restrain 


I 25 


The Legend of McNutt. 

and carry her with him, at least till his bodily needs 
drove him to seek food and drink, she felt equal to 
the task of preserving her person from criminal in- 
roads ; and she resolved to die, if need be, in defense 
of her honor, for already he was making efforts, at 
intervals, to get complete advantage of her in this 
respect. She paid no heed to threats of death ; but 
kept answeiing Sandy, and occasionally called to him 
as loud as she could, until her voice would be muffled 
by the pressure of the Indian’s hand. She reasoned 
that if Red Elm was, in fact, so much enamored of 
her, her life at least was safe, and that his continued 
threats of death were only sham buffets to deter her 
to silence, so she heeded them not. 

The afternoon was now rapidly drawing to a close. 
The sun had gone out of view in the deep forest, and 
Mrs. Janes knew that the twilight would not suffice 
her to reach home again, even if she were released 
from the Indian. She felt that a night’s struggle 
against the Indian’s strength was a horrible prospect, 
but she shrank even more from the idea of wandering 
alone in darkness, among the howling, carnivorous 
wolves, panther, and bear which inhabited the country 
in great numbers. Thus perplexed, she began to col- 
lect her mind to in some way get up a compromise 
with her captor. To do this she knew she would be 
forced to modify her temper toward him. 

Sandy was now out of hearing, for the crafty In- 
dian changed his direction as soon as he knew the 
negro was following in a pretty straight course. As 
a result of this, amid the yelping of the hounds and 
crackling of dry sticks under his feet, Sandy, in his 
great haste, passed completely by them, and so far 


126 The Legend of McNutt. 

missed them as to go entirely out of hearing of Mrs. 
Janes* On and on he surged, thinking to get within 
hearing again, until he ran up against the Quiver just 
as deep dark overtook him, some five or six miles from 
home. Nothing now remained for him to do but re- 
turn by the plainest route, and renew the chase on the 
morrow. This route lay along the course of the bayou 
and the raftsman’s trail used in going to and from his 
logs, which veered Sandy entirely out of hearing of 
the other two, for the red man now directed his steps 
toward the southeast and plunged farther and farther 
into the deep forest. It was now deep dark, and the 
Indian had to pause occasionally and examine the 
bark of the trees to keep his direction — the short hair- 
like moss being invariably on the north side of certain 
kinds of trees. 

He was now becoming wearied with his burden, for 
Mrs. Janes surged backward whenever her feet were 
allowed to touch the ground or she could grasp a 
bush or cane in passing. Consequently, Red Elm had 
been forced to carry her clear of the ground and keep 
her hands close the whole distance he had traveled 
with her ; and, when she had sufficiently collected her 
thoughts to make a proposition to him, he was willing 
to sit on a log and hold her close. While struggling 
to keep his hands on the defensive rather than in un- 
seemly advancing postures, she said to him : ‘ Wild 
Rose knows Red Elm is not going to kill her. He 
loves her much.” 

“What afraid of Red Elm, then?” was his ready 
reply, drawing her closer. 

“Wild Rose got one husband and papooses and 


The Legend of McNutt. 127 

wigwam. Red Elm wouldn’t love Wild Rose if she 
quit good husband for him.” 

“Ugh, Turncoat done quit. May done killed now. 
Heap much Redcoat,” said he, with significant mo- 
tion toward the south. “Don’t love Wild Rose now. 
Left wigwam and papooses. No bring meat to wig- 
wam now,” he persisted insolently. 

She almost hated herself for ever beginning a con- 
versation, now that her husband was makg.ied, and 
she utterly unable to defend him; but she remem- 
bered that it was now too late, an:l that her only 
defense lay in outwitting her antagonist. “Wait till 
Redcoats go home; then if he don’t come back Wild 
Rose go to Red Elm’s wigwam,” she said, merely to 
gain time, for the secret fear lest it might prove her 
sorrow in future caused her to rue saying it. 

“Ugh, good !” exclaimed the Indian, “but who keep 
meat in wigwam while Turncoat gone? Red Elm 
kill heap much deer,” said he, now also in the scheming 
vein. 

“Good ! Red Elm help Mr. Pluet and Sandy and 
no hurt. He don’t come home in twenty moons, Wild 
Rose give up,” she proposed, and made him promise 
to lead her back to the house at once. On this they 
agreed ; and he, rising, put her feet to the ground, and, 
holding her arm tightly grasped, started back in the 
direction from which they had come, feeling the trees 
now and again for direction. 

“Ouch ! Red Elm hurt my arm. Wild Rose afraid 
to run off in dark,” she said, thinking now her chances 
were good to get back home that night ; and she 
whinnied as if to cry from pain. He loosed his grip 
somewhat, and again began to handle her person in 


128 The Legend of McNutt. 

an unbecoming manner. She surged backward at 
once, and he clinched his grasp afresh. 

“Red Elm honest Indian?” she asked, alluding to 
their recent agreement. 

“Red Elm no hurt Wild Rose,” he replied, and 
started again, bidding her to follow, half dragging her 
by the wrist. 

In this episode the Indian purposely changed his 
course back to the southeast, thinking that, as he had 
frightened her into one agreement, she could be in- 
fluenced by further duress into complete reconcilia- 
tion. Mrs. Janes was entirely ignorant of this change, 
and began now to follow at a lively pace, hoping the 
sooner to reach shelter and her children. 

On and on they trudged, necessarily slowly, of course, 
but in the best possible way they traveled far into 
the night. Having neither food nor water, and being 
already tired from labor, Mrs. Janes began to fail in 
strength, but she drove herself along in the vain hope 
of an hour’s rest and safety before long. Again and 
again she questioned the Indian about the direction, 
and each time he averred they would soon reach the 
wigwam. But finally he saw that she had given out 
and could go no further ; he realized, too, that she no 
longer believed his promise to take her home, and he 
said : “Ugh ! Red Elm missed the trail. Heap big tree 
lie here, two tops. Long way from wigwam. Wrong 
way.” By this he meant that he now knew where 
they were by the large, forked log beside which they 
stood. 

It was now near two o’clock in the morning. The 
wasted moon, just risen, looked down dimly through 
the darkness and heavy mist, giving a scant light in 


The Legend of McNutt. 129 

the dense forest ; but it pointed the direction, and by 
it Mrs. Janes realized that her ruse with the Indian 
had entirely failed her, only playing into his hands, 
and that she had been led far away from home. Dis- 
appointed, half-starved, and heart-broken, she fell to 
her knees by the huge log, far from human habitation, 
and wept and prayed, despite the entreaties and rude 
consolations offered by her captor, until her grief 
was vented and almost all her strength spent with 
it. She prayed outright and aloud now, and her heart 
felt relieved. 

Looking up, she saw that the Indian was offering 
her food, some that remained of what he carried with 
him on the morning trip. It wasn’t palatable, but 
she forced herself to take some of it to sustain life, 
being nauseated at the foul odor of the half-tainted, 
half-roasted venison, and asked for water to stay her 
stomach. He led her a short distance aside and down 
a gentle declivity to a narrow lake very similar to 
that by which the Pluet home was built, and the pres- 
ence of which Red Elm very well knew, and from it 
dipped her a drink in a wooden scoop he had whittled 
out with his hunting dirk and carried suspended to 
his buckskin belt. 

“Wild Rose better now. Go- sleep, rest heap,” said 
the Indian in appeasing tones. 

The bare thought of sleeping alone in the pres- 
ence of the red man brought all her anguish to her 
consciousness again, and, seeing the hilt of the dirk, 
with the inscription on it, she sobbingly exclaimed, 
with head bent forward and resting in both tender 
palms, disheveled tresses falling in half-caught-up 
bunches over her face, and all writhing and oscillating 
9 


130 The Legend of McNutt. 

in expressive sorrow : “O Henry, Henry, my own dear 
Henry!” No response came from her husband, but 
the name has ever clung to the lake from which she 
drank the draught to slake her burning thirst. 

The Indian gathered her up in his strong arms and 
carried her to the great log, between the prongs of 
which he had built a lair where he had spent nights 
during the last week, when forced to go out of hear- 
ing of the Pluet home to seek food and drink. He 
placed her on his cane-top couch and attempted to 
direct the arrangement of her position ; but she roused 
all her reserve powers and resisted him, wrapping and 
tucking her skirts closely about her and crossing her 
feet upon them, then leaned against the log and be- 
came silent. Soon Red Elm fancied she was asleep, 
and made a stealthy move toward her again, but this 
time she resisted him violently, for she was half- 
dreaming and thought he had greater advantage of 
her than he really did, and in this state of semicon- 
sciousness his very nearness and movements aroused 
all her resentment. He would no doubt have at this 
time overpowered her, for he was despairing of con- 
quering her by gentle means, but in her heroic strug- 
gles to free herself she kicked so violently on his 
knee with her shoe heel as to temporarily lull his 
burning passion and rob him of any prospect of sleep 
that night, for the acute pain preoccupied his mind 
for some hours. With no further disturbance from 
him she made out to half sleep and snatch two or 
three hours’ partial rest. 

It was fully six o’clock in the morning when Mrs. 
Janes became thoroughly awake again. Red Elm was 
merely dozing, and at the first move she made he was 


The Legend of McNutt. 131 

well awake. She looked about her to get directions 
and take in the situation, for her mind was fully made 
up to escape from her captor at the first opportunity. 
With the lassitude and headache, resulting naturally 
from the previous evening and night’s experiences, 
augmented by other inherent causes, the lady felt 
that she simply could not nerve herself to the task of 
another day’s wrestling with the stalwart redskin. 
Women are different from men in this respect. There 
are times when they must actually nerve themselves 
up to the performance of a task of unusual magnitude. 
If the prospective day’s labor, the routine of social 
demands, or certain physical trials are not beyond all 
reason of accomplishment, women will so collect their 
resources as to undertake to discharge them; while, 
if these seem utterly beyond their strength, they will 
usually do what they can and expect some unknown 
resource to finish them or some fortunate circum- 
stance to render them unnecessary, or they grow 
petulant and faint-hearted under the increased obliga- 
tion. Men -are not so affected. In conscious strength 
of body and mind, their powers normally arrange 
themselves for the undertaking in the contemplation 
of a line of obligation — the more Herculean the task, 
the greater the determination to accomplish it. Wom- 
en blush, pale, and falter at the thought of facing an 
audience or publicly discharging a high function. Men 
grow brave and strong under pressure of such un- 
usual demands. Women naturally feel that they need 
protection, and they do need it in every walk of life. 
Men spurn weakness in their own sex, and are usually 
over self-reliant. Man is to meet all the rugged outer 
side of life. Woman is most beautiful and happy in 


132 The Legend of McNutt. 

the home, surrounded by all the downy, inner lining 
of life’s multifold pressure. If man naturally con- 
quers the elements of his success by making war upon 
them, woman as completely bends and shapes the 
walls of her surroundings by making peace within 
them. 

O hlow bitterly Mrs. Janes felt the need of a gentle, 
strong, bracing protection on this particular morning, 
just such as she would have realized in the presence 
of her husband ! She had braved the ocean wave and 
sacrificed opulence for privation and toil, but that was 
for his sake, and he was present to inspire and pro- 
tect her. Her present unnatural situation was for no 
one’s good. Nothing profitable to anybody seemed 
possible of accomplishment by the cruel improvidence 
that was putting her through the turmoil and hard- 
ship she was undergoing, even though she should suc- 
ceed against such odds, and no real help or inspira- 
tion was present to gird her spirits for the battle. 
She Couldn’t believe it was providential that she — 
pure in her thoughts and hitherto faithful to every 
trust — was being thus evil entreated and persecuted. 
She thought it was wholly the work of evil and against 
the will of God, and she was correct. This conclusion 
set her to thinking how to thwart its effects upon her, 
and with her faith in an all- wise and merciful Provi- 
dence strengthened by these reflections she betook 
herself to her only and sure recourse in prayer to that 
God who heareth the cry of the needy. The result 
of this ten minutes’ season of faithful devotion was 
that she was strengthened in her spirits and felt bet- 
ter. She was even then conscious that her prayer 
was heard and answered, and she was abundantly re- 
warded. 


The Legend of McNutt. 133 

The Indian eyed her intently while she knelt with 
her face toward the rising sun and poured forth her 
petition to God. He supposed she was doing penance 
to the sun, for his tribe had been sun worshipers. 
Nor did he molest her till her devotions were ended, 
for the true Indian is most thoroughly superstitious, 
so that one engaged in devotions, or suspected of in- 
sanity or delirium, is free from harm at his hands. 

Her prayer ended, he gently but firmly caught her 
arm and motioned for her to rise. A happy thought 
— an inspiration, she imagined — possessed her mind, to 
feign inability to rise or to understand. 

He persuaded : “Come, Wild Rose. Go to Red Elm’s 
wigwam. Heap plenty deer.” 

She knew he meant that they must travel more 
before the morning refreshment. 

“Wild Rose make it good with these lily hands,” 
he said, intimating that if she so disliked his bill of 
fare she should have the privilege of preparing food 
to suit her taste. But she wouldn’t understand. Then 
he lifted her up and made an effort to get her to bear 
her weight on her feet, but she made as if it gave her 
great' pain, and collapsed again. The Indian was 
dumfounded, not knowing how to proceed; while the 
delightful idea (if such a sensation as delight were 
thinkable in such a situation) was entertaining Mrs. 
Janes that the Good Spirit had come to her relief so 
soon. In her secret exultation a flush overspread her 
cheeks and her heart beat fast. The beastly captor 
mistook these for signs of acquiescence, and at once 
made undue approaches. Seeing the mistake, she 
flew at him with a thoroughly aroused and divinely 
strengthened resentment, which Red Elm construed 


134 The Legend of McNutt. 

into downright madness. As she recoiled she tore 
her hair and burst into tears of mingled s'orrow and 
chagrin because she had really betrayed any feeling 
at all. But who on earth can but manifest feeling 
when the vibrations of the divine, bearing witness with 
the human spirit, of approbation, and assurances of 
protection, fills the breast ? The very angels of heaven 
could have done no better. 

With this reflection she was momentarily comforted 
and soon composed. It was simply a case of a real 
good being wrested and misinterpreted into imagi- 
nary evil, through the sinful bent of a devilish mind. 
Innumerable and oft-recurring instances of this kind 
have wrought no small havoc among mankind since 
the world began. This time it fortunately turned to 
advantage, since it furnished the occasion for deep- 
ening the Indian with the dread of Mrs. Janes’s in- 
sanity. 

“Red Elm will pack the Wild Rose,” he said in as 
soothing tones as he was capable of uttering. She 
offered no resistance to this, as it was the only way 
out of the dilemma, but she inwardly prayed that God 
would lead tier by this method to Complete deliver- 
ance. She would have again feigned pain or dis- 
comfiture, to make her first ruse the more impressive ; 
but she feared the Indian would infer her sanity re- 
stored and she would lose what she had gained, so 
she rested the case where it stood, as she thought in 
her favor, for she noticed that her most senseless 
moods were the most impressive to the red man. 

All the forenoon Red Elm carried his captive across 
cane ridges and marshes, through jungles and thick- 
ets, and occasionally along opens or “overflows,” 


The Legend of McNutt. 135 

where his path was comparatively unincumbered. 
She knew his direction was still to the southeast, and 
supposed he was making for the river, by which to 
escape entirely from the country, and she thought 
this course favorable to her; for Mr. Pluet might 
be expected back up the river any day now, pending 
the chances of his good or ill success with his raft. 
She knew that Sandy had carried the sailboat down 
to the mouth of the Sunflower and left it for Mr. 
Pluet to take with him as he passed down with the 
raft, and had returned home before the latter had 
started on his trip. Hence she manifested no un- 
easiness at Red Elm’s onward march. 

By noon they came straight up to the wide, fish- 
infested lake which she was enjoying so> heartily 
when her heart first sank at the horrid thought of 
this same skulking savage. He crossed it at a nar- 
row, where young cypress had detained some logs 
at the outflow of the last freshet, forming a disjointed, 
rough-and-tumble pile of drift. At this stage of the 
season there were many venomous water moccasins 
sunning on these logs, and they slid off and swam 
about in the water as Red Elm approached with his 
burden. Down the east bank of the lake he traveled 
some distance; then fell into the trail Sandy had cut 
for their fishing excursion, now grown waist high in 
mutton cane, and by this time Mrs. Janes recognized the 
place. The whole horrible train of sickening thoughts 
and fears flooded in on her consciousness afresh 
as she viewed again the dead tree top under which 
the Indian had hidden, and her mind almost reeled 
in earnest under the pressure of the awful reality. 
Her relaxed muscular system, limbered under the 


136 The Legend of McNutt. 

stupefying realization of her utter helplessness, added 
to her weakness from lack of nourishment, weighed 
still heavier on the almost exhausted Indian, but of 
this she took no notice. He realized his journey 
would soon be ended, and with this knowledge came 
the unconscious relaxation of muscles from the natu- 
ral slackening of inner tension of the motor nerves, 
always causing a load to seem heavier toward the 
last, and he felt he must certainly flag out with his 
one hundred and thirty pounds’ weight. 

Mrs. Janes’s thoughts were so preoccupied with 
schemes that she hardly realized the situation when 
Red Elm suddenly set her down in the doorway of 
their long-deserted house on the mound. The wild 
stare with which she gazed around, as if awakening 
from a disappointing dream, convinced the Indian that 
her mind was really suspended. Of course he thought 
it was from fright and fatigue, and that with rest and 
assurance of safety she would soon recover ; but her 
trick had served her so well, and as she believed it was 
suggested to her in answer to prayer, that she resolved 
to persevere in it until something better presented. 

Red Elm was tired out, hungry, and thirsty; and, 
after resting a few minutes, resumed his load and 
carried Mrs. Janes to the spring. Nothing dould have 
pleased her more, but she seemed utterly oblivious 
of its presence, though the sight of the cool, crystal 
fountain aroused such a sense of thirst as she had 
never known before. He offered her water, but she 
pretended not to notice and wouldn’t take his wooden 
scoop in her hand. He then placed it to her mouth, 
when she smacked her lips and drank eagerly, as much 
like a baby or the young dumb animal as she possibly 


i37 


The Legend of McNutt. 

could, purposely spilling half of it on her breast. This 
was repeated until her thirst was satisfied ; then she 
would stare about, when he offered her more, without 
moving a muscle of the face or giving any signs of 
consciousness. No further doubt remained in the 
mind of the Indian. Her helplessness and insanity he 
construed to be total paralysis, such as he had seen 
among the people of his tribe. 

His vigilance over her now became indifferent, but 
his perplexity of spirit was manifestly intense. Taking 
Mrs. Janes back to the house, the Indian set about 
preparing refreshments, and often while thus engaged 
left her sitting to bring sticks for his fire or water 
from the spring. Each time he returned he would 
think her asleep ; but she would partially arouse again 
as he tramped over the floor of the house or brushed 
near her, and would look about with apparent as- 
tonishment. She had caught his ideas, and did all 
she could to confirm them without being detected. 
This completely impersonating a lunatic or an in- 
valid reveals to the cultivated reader at once strong- 
minded self-possession and deep insight into human 
nature, both of which Mrs. Janes exhibited in a rare 
degree. 

When the crude meal was prepared, Red Elm set 
before his guest meat and gruel in the very best style 
he knew, but she didn’t see it — or appeared not to see 
it — for her eyes were wandering from side to side 
and her face wearing as simple an expression as she 
could assume. 

He then tried to place food in her hand, but still 
unconsciousness seemed to reign. Then, as a last 
resort, he placed it to her mouth, and instantly she 


138 The Legend of McNutt. 

responded as if just awakened or as a young animal 
naturally responds to the touch of its mother’s breast, 
and she ate heartily — crazily — until she had taken all 
she absolutely needed, in this manner, and then pre- 
tended nausea and would take no more. The Indian 
now partook heartily, for a red man, of the same food, 
so coarse and crude to her, but to him the most de- 
lightful viands; then, going to the spring, he drank 
again and carried a scoopful of water to her, which 
she, after pretending to arouse, drank leisurely in the 
same childlike manner. 

Red Elm now set about raising a conversation with 
Mrs. Janes ; but she failed to heed the least or greatest 
effort he made, whether of word or sign, and he con- 
cluded her not only paralyzed but deaf and dumb. 
His last resort was to break over his savage supersti- 
tions and insinuate to embrace her person, but now 
he proceeded with misgivings, for he naturally fan- 
cied her possessed of an evil spirit. When he did 
summon courage for the act, or effort, she broke out 
into the most unearthly scream and quaver of voice 
she could imagine, at the same time her eyes flashing 
and streaming forth briny tears. The latter she pro- 
duced absolutely dramatically and with considerable 
effort, for the manifest awe with which the surly In- 
dian withdrew a few paces, as if in doubt whether to 
flee or remain, really amused her; but she durst not 
evince the least evidence of even satisfaction at the 
result, lest he suspect her hypocrisy. The startled 
red man stood staring at her until she lapsed again 
into silence and mock repose, when he cautiously 
drew nearer and hunkered down full two yards away 
from her and sat in profound thought, no doubt in 


The Legend of McNutt. 139 

an earnest endeavor to devise some means of relief 
for both. 

The result was that Red Elm quietly left the room 
and sought out three or four different herbs, which 
he combined in a cold decoction, after crushing and 
squeezing them together for several minutes. Mrs. 
Janes eyed him attentively through the crevices be- 
tween the logs of the house, for all the preparation 
was made by his low fire in front of the door. When 
he came to her with it and placed it to her lips she 
was thirsty and thought it spring water, smacking her 
lips at it greedily, the better to continue the impres- 
sion of her lunacy; but, after taking only a small 
amount and wasting a great deal, she affected nausea 
again, so as to guard against any secret potion she 
feared might have been slipped into the vessel un- 
noticed by her ; and her nausea was not all forced, for 
her stomach felt not very strong before, and now, with 
the added effluvium from the crushed weeds, little 
effort was necessary to heave back all of the decoction 
she had taken and more. 

The Indian was now at his row’s end, and could do 
nothing more for the time but wait till morning, now 
that the afternoon was more than half gone; and, 
thinking that probably time and rest would do for 
his patient what he had failed to do, he sunk down 
to take a rest, leaning back against the wall of the 
house immediately opposite the doorway, so as to be 
at a safe distance from the lady should she again fall 
into a paroxysm under the influence of the ominous 
spirit ; for he was now entirely deceived, and her per- 
son was perfectly safe from violence at his hands while 
she maintained her attitude. 


140 The Legend of McNutt. 

Full half an hour he sat thus before he succumbed 
to weariness and dropped into a profound sleep. All 
this while she cast furtive glances at him through her 
eyelashes as she continued her mimic inertia. By and 
by his eyes were well closed and hers were well opened. 
His chin dropped down and his mouth slightly opened, 
and he set up that infallible proof of sleep which none 
can perfectly imitate — a low, hoarse snore. Mrs. 
Janes was all alive now, but the lower extremities 
were partially benumbed from sitting too long in one 
position. With keen eyes on Red Elm, she so manip- 
ulated her feet as to restore sensation and agility 
without disturbing him. He snored on, and seemed 
now to be more deeply than ever immersed in slum- 
ber. Now was her time for action, but what should 
she do? Should she kill him at once, and so forever 
put an end tfo his prowlings and abductions? No, she 
couldn’t muster the courage for this, for she 
couldn’t find it in her heart to slay anything that 
loved her, even though it was cruelly. Then suppose 
in the first effort she should fail and only bring on an 
infuriated combat in which she was likely to be the 
loser, being the weaker? The only practical course 
was flight. 

Softly and carefully she crept out of the cabin, look- 
ing first where to place her foot and then back at the 
Indian. Once she fancied he moved his eyelids, and 
she paused, not knowing what best to do should he 
really awake. Her impulse was to break off in a fast 
run ; but she curbed this, knowing that in this way she 
would surely awaken him, when all might be lost. But 
it was only a fancy, born, no doubt, of fear and ex- 


The Legend of McNutt. 141 

pectation, and she was permitted to walk out of view 
and into the switch cane. 

The place all about was familiar to* her eyes, for 
she remembered well the landmarks. There were 
the large trees of different species, the cross-laid tops 
left by the storm, the ‘‘overflows” and dense brakes 
that alternated about the haunt. 

But where was she to go, and what could she do 
alone? Two hours later and the dark summer night 
would be upon her with all its hideous, prowling 
beasts, and the Indian might be expected at any mo- 
ment on her trail. While reasoning thus, and for 
reasons she could not have told, she was rapidly mak- 
ing her way toward the river ; and, as she was going 
that way, she resolved to plunge in and drown rather 
than again be encoiled in the loathsome embrace of 
the detestable Indian. She had crossed the switch 
cane and was emerging into the open that led direct 
to the river, when, glancing behind, she dould see the 
cane briskly moving fifty steps from her, as if an object 
were advancing nearly in her direction. She thought 
only of the red man awake and in pursuit. Her heart 
sunk and her strength failed. The distance to the 
river was too great to be reached before he overtook 
her, for he was rapidly nearing the open. She sunk 
back in the edge of the tall cane, this time without 
affecting but really being almost paralyzed, only just 
in time to get as still as she possibly could under the 
circumstances, when out stepped and stopped in the 
open to sniff the air a large doe, making her way to 
shelter after the day’s browse. 

The relief of mind that resulted was instantly cut 
short, for at her release from dread she quickly but 


142 The Legend of McNutt. 

unconsciously stirred and gave such fright to the 
deer as to send it off at full speed. Mrs. Janes con- 
cluded that the fright must have been caused from 
the rear and that the Indian was approaching indeed. 
Only a few moments’ waiting, however, again relieved 
her fears, and she tipped along more rapidly than 
ever toward the river. When she felt entirely alone, 
her steps so quickened that she gained the river bank 
running at the top of her speed and nearly exhausted. 

She came to the river at the old landing where such 
a long view both up and down stream was command- 
ed, and anxiously scanned its placid surface in both 
directions in the vain hope of seeing something 
on which to make a crossing, then she would look 
back for the expected pursuer. Five minutes or more 
elapsed while in this state of suspense. Meanwhile 
she was planning to conceal her tracks henceforward, 
and go as far up as possible before night, then push 
off a log or whatever she could and cross in the dark. 
But what was that down the river that so attracted 
her attention now? She strained her vision, holding 
her hand over her brow, for the slanting sun reflected 
his rays directly to her face. Thus she peered steadfast- 
ly downstream. 

Quite a half mile away she saw a sailboat which 
she thought could be none other than Mr. Pluet’s. 
The sails hung loose, as the air was still, and the boat 
moved very slowly upstream, propelled only by the 
oars of the occupant. A sob of gratitude ascended 
to God as Mrs. Janes thought of her prayer and its 
fulfillment, for she hoped now to be saved. But lis- 
ten ! The woods are in a stir. Commotion again 
nearly paralyzed her pulse, and she felt the lack of 


The Legend of McNutt. 143 

blood in the extremities, when she thought of being 
overtaken yet and dragged away before succor could 
arrive, and her tears of gratitude were mixed with 
those of anxiousness as she became all over in a 
fidget of uncertainty. She wanted to cry out to Mr. 
Pluet to rush on quickly, but she knew he could come 
no faster and that her voice would only reveal her 
position — for she had crept down by the edge of the 
water and was concealed from the upper view. But 
the rustle in the woods was caused by the rising 
breeze. The south wind was now setting everything 
in motion, which partly quelled the fears of the im- 
patient lady. 

Mrs. Janes was glad, in fact, when she saw the sails 
fill and the boat yield to the wind with increased ve- 
locity. She thought she could hardly have borne the 
suspense longer had not signs of relief been in view, 
and now that it seemed so near she scarcely could 
bide its coming. Nearer and nearer, faster and faster, 
sped the sailboat, until but a hundred yards inter- 
vened. His course would have led Mr. Pluet to hug 
the opposite shore to cut off some distance about the 
bend where Mrs. Janes sat, and she saw him steering 
from her. She could bear it no longer, but must call 
out to him. It was a fatal call, for, though Mr. Pluet 
heard her and steered directly for her position, Red 
Elm also heard her about as far out in the forest as 
her distance from the sailboat, and directed his chase 
more definitely. Of this she was uncertain, but the 
secret dread almost urged her to spring into the wa- 
ter and endeavor to meet the approaching boat. 

The final moment came for her to step into the 
bow of the boat and feel safe once more; but just 


144 


The Legend of McNutt. 

as she stepped in and stooped to catch to the gun- 
wale on the far side, so as to steady herself and 
push off, a strong hand clinched her arm, and she 
fainted, with a deathlike grip on the gunwale of the 
boat. Mr. Pluet was now brought to a full sense of 
the situation, and he rushed forward with his drawn 
oar and broke it over the Indian’s head and back, the 
paddle end sticking in the mud close to Red Elm’s 
loose hand. He seized it and returned the blow, for- 
getting to use other weapons. Mr. Pluet crowded 
on him, and in the scuffle at close range each inflict- 
ed severe blows, until the white man fortunately saw 
the buck-horn handle of the dirk above Red Elm’s 
belt, and caught it from him unawares, as he was bent 
around under a severe blow from Mr. Pluet’s oar 
stub. With this dirk in hand he met the Indian as 
the latter partially regained his equilibrium, and cut 
his throat with one desperate blow far more than half 
around, and entirely to the neck bone in front. The 
Indian sank back, half in mud and half in water, and 
only released his grasp from the lady’s arm when Mr. 
Pluet pulled off his hand, finger at a time, with the 
death tremor quivering in every muscle, the blood 
gushing out on the bank and streaming into the water 
at a rapid rate. 

At the release of the grip of the Indian, Mrs. Janes 
regained consciousness in part, and Mr. Pluet as- 
sisted her to the center of the boat before she glanced 
backward. When she did she staggered and sat down, 
faint and weak. 

“O how thankful, dear Lord, for this deliverance !” 
said the lady, and then inquired if that was Red Elm 
who lay there dead, his face turned from her. 


The Legend of McNutt. 145 

“Yes,” said Mr. Pluet, “this is the lynx-eyed pup- 
pet. Don’t you see?” 

And with that he finished severing- the head from 
the body, and turned the face toward Mrs. Janes to 
see for herself to a certainty. The impression was in- 
delibly riveted on her mind. 

10 


CHAPTER IX. 

To My Wife. 

When wife’s at home 
Then all the world goes smoothly, 

Since all its sweets and joys are there 
Condensed, combined, entwined together 
By untaught alchemy, blent with love 
Around the rooftree. 

When wife’s at home 
Each inmate is happy and gleeful, 

Each heartstring seems a vibrant chord 

Of praise to her deft, magic hand 

And smile that bridges every jargon discord, 

Then it is home to me. 

When wife’s at home 
Each note, each glance, and motion 
Are virtue’s fringes, flourished modestly, 

Like unwoven edges show content of texture; 

Home’s “ flaming swords” drawn ’gainst each 
vice and sin, 

Now it approaches heaven. — The Author. 

The events of slaying the Indian and releasing Mrs. 
Janes, recorded in the last chapter, were hardly past, 
and that lady barely seated in the boat, when the 
faint yelp of a hound was heard far out toward Roe 
Buck Lake, as if slowly following a trail ; and instead 
of sailing ahead, up the river, Mr. Pluet merely 
pushed up from the dead Indian to his old landing, 
and awaited further developments. Then he heard 
another yelp, this time a different one. 

“That’s Fleeter, and Sandy ain’t fur away, ’cause 
she never leaves home ’thout one of us, an’ Sandy 


The Legend of McNutt. 147 

al’ys knows to follow on when Fleeter opens up,” 
said he. 

“Yes, poor Sandy! I expect he has been searching 
for me all night and to-day, without food; and he 
would have found me, too, for the dogs are coming 
directly here. God bless the negro ! I’ll see that he 
never wants if ever this cruel war is over,” said Mrs. 
Janes, as she stood supporting herself against the 
mast pole of the boat. 

“Never think Sandy’ll starve in these woods ; he’s 
found somethin’ to eat ’efore this ; but I’ll blow for 
him, and bring ’em in at once, to> save him ramblin,’ 
an’ so we may get on sooner.” 

“To-oo-oo-t, to-oo-oo-t, to-oo-oo-t,” sounded the 
horn three times, with a brief time between. The 
next instant Sandy’s horn was heard to sound in a 
similar manner, arrd the hounds began to bark al- 
most incessantly as they rushed along. Soon these 
reached the cabin, and were engaged in smelling 
through the house and finishing up Red Elm’s earth- 
en pot of gruel and roast meat, hence they ceased 
their yelping. At this Sandy uttered one of his keen 
and prolonged whoops, which he always reserved 
till it was needed, and it then served invariably as an 
effective coax to goad the lagging dogs along. 

“Ah, the good fellow’s heart’s light now,” said Mr. 
Pluet, “an’ he’s puttin’ down tracks in a hurry, I can 
tell by his voice. It won’t be long till he comes.” 
This he said as much to reassure the lady that she 
would soon be released from the embarrassment of 
remaining in the company of only one man as to ex- 
press his interest in the welfare of his slave; though 
Mrs. Janes thought nothing of committing her per- 


148 The Legend of McNutt. 

sonal security to that gentleman, on whom she 
looked as a brother and protector, for her husband had 
assured her that for uncommon reasons he knew she 
would be entirely safe with Mr. Pluet. Besides, she 
was pure-minded, and she had always found him the 
same. 'However much he was interested to know 
the extent of depredations the Indian had committed 
on her, Mr. Pluet refrained from even a hint or ques- 
tion that would elicit conversation on the point, know- 
ing that, whatever the sin, the Indian had died for it, 
and justly, even though there were no more than her 
abduction, and greatest interest was now centered in the 
approach of Sandy and his dogs. 

The slave had left home before dawn with provisions 
to last three or four days, under directions from his 
mistress, intending to search diligently for the kid- 
naper and his prize, and to rescue Mrs. Janes if pos- 
sible. He had bidden “Miss Patsy” a touching fare- 
well, saying: “I’ll kill dat Injun or he’ll kill me, less he 
gins up Mis’ Sa’a’ to me, ef I fin’ ’em. Don’t know’t 
I’ll ebber come back or not, Miss Patsy; but ef I don’, 
you’ll know’t I died er fightin’ for de right.” 

“Go then, Sandy; that’s a brave soger, an’ even 
Capt’n Janes couldn’t do more’n that,” said Mrs. 
Pluet, as she held Sandy’s hand, and he stooped down 
and kissed the extended fingers. 

“But take care of yourself ; an’ if you don’t find ’em 
in two weeks, come home and let us know, so your 
master an’ you kin put out to the Ouachita country 
for her. Daniel’ll be home ’efore that, and won’t 
know wher’ to go or what to do till he fin’s out wher’ 
you’ve searched or what you’ve found.” 


The Legend of McNutt. 149 

“Yes’m, I’s gywyn to, ef I lives,” he said, and hur- 
ried off. 

He had struck the Indian’s trail in a marsh close 
to the lake near which the few hours’ delay had been 
made the previous night, and by continued urging suc- 
ceeded in making the hounds understand that he wished 
them to follow it. They did follow it after a time, 
though it was foreign to their training, and the prov- 
erb, “It is hard to teach an old horse new tricks,” 
was amply verified in this case. They ran but poor- 
ly in the new role, but sufficiently accurate to enable 
the negro to come across the Indian’s trail occa- 
sionally in some marsh or the crossing of a slough, 
for Red Elm could not take the trouble to hide his 
tracks and carry his weight along. Nor can any man 
walk with the same upright, unsuspected bearing before 
the keen-eyed world if he carries a weight of guilt on 
his heart. Do what he will, he cannot hide it; the 
extra weight will make a deeper mark upon his brow, 
and so leave its tracks, which the hunted cannot hide. 
Thus Sandy followed the trail and was drawing near 
its terminus, when, on weary limb and tired foot, he 
heard his master’s horn. Now that he hoped to have an 
able assistant, and possibly overtake the culprit, his spir- 
its revived and he forgot his fatigue. Coming up to 
the hut on the mound, he gave only a hasty glance in, 
and saw that it had recently been occupied ; then hurried 
past. The dogs had gone to the river, and ceased trail- 
ing, and Sandy was in some doubt which way to go, 
hence he sounded his horn again, and darted ahead 
among the trees and cane, lest Red Elm might be lurk- 
ing about him and shoot him down. Three long notes 


150 The Legend of McNutt. 

from his master’s horn answered him, and in ten min- 
utes more he gained the river at the old landing. 

When Sandy slacked his pace in view of the boat, 
almost exhausted, he stopped and looked the picture 
of complete astonishment and wild-eyed surprise, 
saying: “Well, dar now, ef dat ain’t Miss Sa’a’ done 
got ’way f’om Red Elm, sho! An’ ol’ Mars corned 
back a’ready. Well, well, fore de Eawd, sho’s I ajn’t 
done gone crazy ! Well, Mars Dan, how you do? Ha, 
ha, he ! I’s mighty glad to see you, sho !” 

When the negro and his master had exchanged 
greetings, the latter proposed that the company repair 
to the deserted lodge to spend the night, saying that 
Mrs. Janes and Sandy must both be very tired; for 
the lady had put in the time during Sandy’s approach 
rehearsing the events that had recently transpired. 
He submitted the point to her. 

“But we’ll leave it to you, Mrs. Janes, as to where 
we spend the night.” 

“Then we will get as far from this frightful place as 
possible, if I have to row the boat myself to aid our 
travel, for I’ll never get the image of that headiess 
Indian off my mind as long as I am anywhere in this 
region. But where did you get that bloody knife 
lying in the boat, Mr. Pluet ? Is that what you used 
in cutting off the Indian’s head ?” 

This conversation, of course, gave the main facts 
to the silent negro standing near. 

“Yes’m, that dirk was in the Injun’s belt, an’ I 
jerked it out an’ cut his ’nfernal throat while he was 
bendin’ over a’ter the broke oar. It looks like 
your’n.” 

“It is. I left it out there at the house in my hurry 


The Legend of McNutt. 1 5 1 

the night we moved away, and that mink found it 
there afterwards. He drew it dozens of times yester- 
day afternoon, threatening to slay me if I screamed. 
I saw the name “Henry” on the hilt last night at 
moonrise, as Red Elm gave me water from a lake far 
up between here and home,” she said, pointing toward 
the northwest, “and it seemed to me I never felt such 
hungering for his presence in all my life When I 
saw his name, inscribed with his own penknife, and 
missed him so much, I cried out, ‘Henry, O Henry !’ 
but my voice only mocked me in the solitude.” 

“And now I have a good name for the lake,” said 
Mr. Pluet. “I’d often wondered what to name it, but 
that settles it. It shall be ‘Lake Henry’ from this 
on.” 

“Whar’ dat In jin what you done kilt, Mars Dan ? Is 
you kilt Red Elm sho ’nough ?” 

“Yes, Sandy; he’s dead,” said Mr. Pluet. “An’ to 
let you see for yourself, we’ll drop down to where he is.” 

So saying, he loosed the sail cord and bade the negro 
push off. In a minute they had drifted down with 
the current and Sandy was gazing in wonder at such 
a sight as he had never before seen. The dogs sniffed 
the Indian’s blood over the side of the boat, and ever 
after were as ready to follow the trail of a man as that 
of a varmint. Their posterity become noted in after 
years over Mississippi and adjoining States as “negro 
dogs,” with which to catch fugitive slaves. Mrs. Janes 
covered her face and grew faint at the sight, for in the 
death struggle the Indian drew his garment in such a 
manner, with the lower extremities under water, as to 
look for all the world like a headless woman ; but there 
were the ghastly features of the Indian, and no mistake. 


152 The Legend of McNutt. 

“Dat sabed me de trouble. Glad you’s dead, you 
gashly-lookin’ woman-stealer you, cause Ps gwyner 
shoot you sho, ef I’d seed you fus, do you mought er 
seed me fus,” remarked the much-gratified African 
with shaking head. 

With these last compliments the white man geared 
his sail, trimmed his boat, and put off up the river, dogs 
and all on board. The wind blew steadily till toward 
day, and with sails and oars, as on their previous voy- 
age up, they made landing at Cottonwood Bend before 
dawn, Sandy sleeping at his post half the time, now that 
he was under the protection of his master and felt no 
special care; but he would arouse up and pull with a 
right good will when called upon. Only one pair of 
oars could be used to advantage, since only three re- 
mained after one being broken on the Indian. Mrs. 
Janes, after they took their evening meal, wrapped 
herself in a soft blanket and slept sweetly in the bow 
of the boat during the whole night run. 

When their boat jammed against the other one that 
lay chained in a cove at Cottonwood Bend and stopped 
suddenly against the bank, Mrs. Janes was fully awake 
and much refreshed. She set about making them a 
warm meal as best she could with the few rude cooking 
utensils Mr. Pluet carried on his trip. Withal they had 
a pot of good strong tea, which greatly pleased and 
cheered the lady. Before them lay the twelve miles of 
rough road leading home, and she was still much foot- 
sore, yet she would not allow Mr. Pluet to make an ex- 
tra trip to fetch the mule for her ; she was too anxious 
to get to her children. Nevertheless, Sandy doubled 
his pace and met them one-third of the distance back 


The Legend of McNutt. 153 

with both her children, “Nick” behind and Lizzie in 
front, on the mule, going to meet their mother. 

At this meeting both mother and children embraced, 
caressed, and wept, while Mr. Pluet and Sandy laughed 
and shed tears at the same time. Then they placed the 
lady and her children on Genette and they soon were 
at home. 

When Mrs. Pluet and Mrs. Janes met they embraced 
and sobbed for quite two minutes before either spoke, 
when words of gratitude were their sole store of ex- 
pression. Presently Mrs. Pluet hugged the other ten- 
derly close and whispered her deep concern in her 
ear, which was responded to tenderly, affectionately, 
with accompanying pressure of Mrs. Janes’s hand on 
the other’s cheek, and both actually beamed with 
happiness. 

The summer went by without further casualties— in 
fact, there was nothing now to threaten their safety ex- 
cept the malarial season, and with medicines brought 
up from Natchez Mr. Pluet kept both families on foot 
till cold weather, when their fears, in a measure, abated. 
The crops of corn, peas, pumpkins, beans, and potatoes 
were harvested in due time, and in sufficient quantities 
to serve all actual needs, and stored in kilns and tem- 
porary sheds rudely constructed about the premises. 
Mr. Pluet had good fortune with his raft with the deal- 
er at Natchez, receiving for it about three hundred dol- 
lars, and engaged a larger one for next spring. 

The autumn that followed was ideal in every partic- 
ular, such as is coveted by cotton farmers of the pres- 
ent day, who harvest thousands of bales of the fleecy 
staple from the very lands — black, loamy, and the most 
extensive, very fertile, known region — over which the 


154 The Legend of McNutt. 

events of our story were so dramatically happening. 
Colors were brilliant in the forest, crimson, golden, and 
purple mingling with the pale green of the declining 
year to weave garlands of many-hued beauty. The 
deep pea-green background of maturing cane foliage 
was constantly in evidence, and along the shores of 
lakes and bayous ever and anon were seen the redden- 
ing sweet haw, tucked as a half-blown rosebud in a 
large bouquet, and on which the squirrel and blackbird 
were to make many a pleasant winter meal ; for Moth- 
er Nature, when left unhindered, mingles sweetness 
with her bountiful supply of fruits and herbs. Sandy 
and the three children of the family were wont to share 
many of these sweets with nature’s pets. 

With autumn and the pea patch came the time for 
still-hunting at night. Mr. Pluet and Sandy impro- 
vised a “headlight” by making fast a long flat stick to 
a frying pan handle to carry on the shoulder. In this 
pan they built a fire of tinder wood and went out to 
shine the deer’s eyes and shoot them by the light of the 
flame shining on the gun barrel. The curious deer 
will stand and look amazed at the strange sight of fire 
in the night until the skillful hunter has ample time to 
draw his aim and shoot. The deer’s eye is always dis- 
tinguishable from that of other animals by the steady, 
unwincing glow of the large round fire-lit ball, for the 
deer never bats its eye. 

The floating season for buffalo fish was now on also ; 
and as they abounded in the lakes, Sandy found no finer 
sport than in gigging or harpooning them from the bow 
of his dugout. Sometimes his master stood in the bow 
and motioned Sandy to row him to right or left, as occa- 


The Legend of McNutt. 155 

sion demanded, and thus they would slip on and spear 
some of the finest. 

On these beautiful mornings in the early autumn, while 
the cypress brakes were dry, Mr. Pluet could usually 
be found busy with his prospective raft, sometimes im- 
pressing Sandy’s help in felling and preparing the logs 
to be in readiness for the next spring’s water, when 
these were to take the course of previous collections. 
It was a coveted delight to be among the woods in this 
season. The melody of the song bird and the cry of the 
chicken hawk, the chatter of the snipe and kingfisher, 
the clatter of the woodpecker and blue jay, harmonized 
with the humming bee as it gathered its winter store 
from oozing sap and wild flowers, to make “the woods 
with music ring;” while the sound of ax and snatches 
of merry song from the faithful slave beat time in exhil- 
arating symphonies, and afforded ample entertainment 
for the sturdy raftsman. He was happy and content 
so far as earthly happiness extends, seeing his families 
were sufficiently provided for for the winter. 

Autumn passed and winter drew on apace — the win- . 
ter of 1814-15. Much of the music and song now gave 
place to an expressive solitude. Nothing disturbed 
the quiet except the flap of the garfish’s tail as he 
tumbled over in the water, the caw of the crow, or the 
chilling hoot of a solitary owl. But December, with 
its frosts and, in this latitude, light snows and sleets, 
is always as welcome here as spring; for by these the 
danger from malaria is much reduced, while primitive 
habits of open houses and scant clothing so thorough- 
ly inured the inhabitants to the effects of cold weather 
that sudden changes were the more easily resisted. 
Then, also, came the long evenings with good old- 


156 The Legend of McNutt. 

fashioned log fires in huge 'hearths which measured 
more than half the width of the house, and the nuttings 
and peanut roasts, which are ever a charm and delight 
to children. 

It was one of these delightfully clear and cool winter 
afternoons that Mr. Pluet came in earlier than usual 
from his labors, having finished the largest lot of the 
very best logs he had ever floated. Sandy led the 
mule ahead of him, across which was balanced an un- 
usually large buck, with dangling antlers, while the 
hounds trotted leisurely behind them. They reached 
the back yard without attracting attention or noticing 
that strangers were on the premises. But their con- 
versation while dismounting the deer brought Mrs. 
Pluet out the back way, wearing a peculiarly anxious 
expression, read easily as her mark of perplexity, and 
at once recognized by her husband, who never failed 
to give attention. 

“What’s the matter now, ol’ ’oman, that you seem 
so pious like ? Anybody sick ?” 

“Nuh,” she said, with a shake of her head. “The 
preachers is come, an’ I don’t know how we’ll manage 
to sleep ’em. Brother Gibbons and Brother Vickering 
is in the house, an’ it’s certain they can’t git to wher’ 
nobody else lives ’efore mornin’ ; but we jest hain’t got 
nowher’ for ’em.” 

“O well, Patsy, the parsons won’t be hard to please, 
so don’t you go an’ git r’lig’on about it till they squeal. 
We’ll fix it.” And there was a twinkle of gladne'ss in 
Mr. Pluet’s eyes which always satisfied his wife, know- 
ing him to be pleased, while she blushed under his 
humor and brightened up perceptibly. 

“You go on in, then, and me an’ Sandy’ll dress the 


i57 


The Legend of McNutt. 

deer,” she responded, as the two men elevated it on the 
end of a pole projecting from the corner of the house ; 
for she wished the preachers to have a fair opportunity 
to talk much with her husband, and thought the time 
auspicious. 

Mrs. Pluet had been converted at Natchez in the old 
Spring Hill log meetinghouse, three summers before, 
under the ministry of Rev. Tobias Gibson, and became 
a member of the first Methodist society there. Her 
husband seemed inaccessible in his disinterestedness, 
though always very hospitable to the preachers, a favor 
not always accorded this wayfaring hierarchy, often 
entertaining them at his Natchez home and, in turn, 
being entertained with their warm discussions in the- 
ology, as well as hearing from them all the current news 
of the day ; for these traveling evangelist pastors were 
also the most favorable argosies of the times. On this 
particular occasion Mr. Pluet was especially delighted 
to have them ; for, in the first place, he had been much 
more serious over his case since killing the Indian, 
though never immoral or boisterous ; and, secondly, 
he expected to learn from them the progress of the 
war. Mrs. Pluet, having noticed his unusual state of 
mind, was not slow to appreciate his pleasure at their 
presence, and hence urged him to meet the preachers 
when he first came. 

Nothing would have delighted Mrs. Pluet so much 
as for her husband to espouse religion and join her 
in the discharge of religious duties. She longed for 
his companionship in faith, besides feeling much con- 
cern for his salvation. She and Mrs. Janes often dis- 
cussed their different religious views, sometimes in 
Mr. Pluet’s presence, and then would seek to induce 


158 The Legend of McNutt. 

him to express an opinion ; but he was simply noncom- 
mittal in all matters of faith. If he had views of his 
own — and all men have — they were so undeveloped as 
to seal his lips, for he was discreet, and that’s a virtue 
not all men have. 

With the same benignant twinkle in his eyes with 
which he met his wife, and a boyish gladness on his 
face, he hurried around to the front door and entered. 
“Well, parsons, I’m pleased to see yous,” said he, 
giving each a hearty handshake. “How did you hap- 
pen to find us here? We were hid from everybody 
but a Methodist preacher, I’ll warrant.” 

“Well, not quite, for the people over about Brother 
Leflore’s knew you were up this way; they saw your 
boats coming up over a year ago,” said Rev. Vickering. 
“We got directions from them; but they do say, I be- 
lieve, that we preachers are great discoverers through 
here.” 

“You must be really better discoverers than Colum- 
bus, for he only discovered America, while I thought 
one night down at ol’ Spring Hill ’at Parson Tom Gib- 
bons had discovered heaven, an’ was ’bout to take the 
cong’ation ’long with him up there. I ’gin to be scared 
he would take me up, an’ me ’thout r’lig’on, an’ I doubt- 
ed how it might work out; so I jest got up an’ lef’ the 
meetin’house. ’Pon my soul, I b’l’eve if them English- 
men who’ve been ’xplorin’ for the Northwest Passage 
would put a Methodist preacher’s circuit beyant it an’ 
send him to it, he’d break the ice for ’em, an’ ther’d be 
no further trouble ; they could sail on straight through 
it if they’d follow him.” 

A burst of merriment followed this jest, and perfect 
congeniality prevailed, 


The Legend of McNutt. 159 

“Of one discovery we should all make sure, Brother 
Pluet, and that is when we are called to cross over to 
a new country forever, to that bourn from whence 
none ever returns; we can’t afford to drop anchor in 
the wrong port, and locate in the enemy’s country. 
The happy or unhappy discovery, then, will count for 
much,” said Rev. Gibbons. “But to go back to the 
Spring Hill meeting again, I was struck with your 
leaving the house that night. You looked puzzled, and 
that was the very night Sister Pluet professed and 
joined the Church. Why didn’t you” — 

His question was cut short by Mr. Pluet, who saw 
the trend he was taking. “That was jest the kind o* 
sermont to ketch Patsy, that about heaven. All the 
thunder and lightnin’ ’bout the other worl’ ’uld never 
reach her. She didn’t git r’l’gion for dread, but love 
an’ joy’s her sort, an’ al’ys was,” said Mr. Pluet. 

“Well, some are converted from fear and some from 
love, but it all amounts to about the same at last,” said 
Rev. Vickering. “One that’s saved from fear soon 
learns to love, and one that turns through love soon 
learns to fear, lest he should offend.” 

“Now, them’s the things that al’ys dumfuzzles me 
’bout r’l’gion,” said Mr. Pluet. “This mixin’ up of 
love an’ fear like that; but that does seem clear, that 
you’ve jest said, some for love and some for fear, an’ 
both come to the same a’ter all.” 

“Ye's, the same in effect, but not one or the other 
alone — a mixture of the two, as loving fear or fearing 
love. You see the two blend either way expressed.” 

“I reckon that’s plain enough, if they wouldn’t keep 
mixin’ up fear in so many ways. One Tear hath tor- 


160 The Legend of McNutt. 

merit’ an’ another ‘fear is the beginnin’ of wisdom,’ but 
reckon that’s all the same too.” 

“No, not the same,” joined the preachers. “One is 
the loving fear just mentioned, and the other a dread- 
ing fear, full of distrust, arising from an awakened 
conscience, but an unconverted, unfaithful, unconfiding 
heart,” continued one of them. 

The other, with a word fitly spoken, said : “And Paul 
meant just this kind of fear when in Hebrews ii. he 
said that “through death he [meaning Christ] might 
destroy him that had the power of death, that is, the 
devil; and deliver them, who through fear of death 
were all their lifetime subject to bondage.’ ” 

“And the beloved apostle,” said his coadjutor, “re- 
ferred to this kind when he said in i John iv. : ‘Perfect 
love casteth out fear,’ etc.” 

“Yes, them’s plain scriptures, I think,” said Mr. 
Pluet; “but what about a fellow like me? I was de- 
fendin’ of Mrs. Janes last summer, an’ had to kill an 
In jin. Since then I’ve thought a good deal ’bout havin’ 
to give ’count for the act, though it weren’t a rash act, 
either, only to keep her from bein’ kidnaped away the 
secon’ time from her child’en, maybe for life; besides, 
I’d tried hard as I could to git him to go on off an’ 
leave us, an’ then slipped off from him ’way up here. 
Do you think I committed pure murder in the sight o’ 
God by doin’ of it ?” 

“I don’t know all the circumstances,” replied Preach- 
er Gibbons, “but if it is as you say, you may be sure the 
courts here will not trouble you for it. But ‘man is 
prone to err’ in many such matters, and you had better 
not risk too much on our judgment. If you have fears 
and scruples, you would do well to seek forgiveness ; 


The Legend of McNutt. 1 6 1 

at least it will do no harm. Don’t you think you’d feel 
better on all. grounds if you would believe and join the 
Church and live a religious life?” 

“Well, I hope I should; an’ — an’ — er — I’d about 
made up my min’ to do that when the — the war’s over 
an’ we can go to meetin’ ’gin at Spring Hill. But can’t 
you tell me some news ’bout the war?” queried Mr. 
Pluet, turning the trend of the subject again, which he 
saw was growing personal, and he not ready to yield — 
in fact, too indifferent yet. 

With the new subject the men busied themselves until 
supper was announced. Mrs. Janes had already ob- 
tained about all the news they had on the subject, 
which was of a few brilliant naval victories and the 
massing of a respectable army at New Orleans — that 
this army was unexpectedly healthy from the fact that 
the march and stay southward had been principally 
during winter. 

Mr. Pluet inquired what was the general impression 
as to the results of the war. 

“Well, as to that,” said Rev. Vickering, who was 
a man of portly stature, dark complexion, long, flowing 
locks, and high full forehead, with every evidence of 
highly developed mental organism, and slightly bald 
crown, “I suppose there is no doubt but that our cause 
will triumph, with the boundless resources of men and 
territory of the United States, for you know the favor- 
ite battle cry now is ‘Millions for defense, but not a 
cent for tribute.’ Men have died for liberty in Ameri- 
ca, and they will continue to do so until the world is 
convinced of our national independence; and so the 
immediate results will be success for American arms, 
11 


162 The Legend of McNutt. 

But who can tell what shall be the far-reaching re- 
sults?” 

“Ah !” responded Rev. Gibbons, a man of medium 
statue and florid, blonde complexion, with prominent 
features, large, Roman nose, and broad, rather low 
forehead, while the rear of his head was unusually large, 
“ah ! there are wondrous possibilities in store for this 
country, with an unbroken record of triumphant arms 
and growing prestige. Why, in the course of two 
centuries all this Mississippi shall have been organized 
into States and counties, and this country will become 
equal in military greatness to ancient Rome. But we 
must also remember that Rome fell, and that with our 
growing greatness we shall confront increasing dan- 
gers.” 

“That is my idea, Brother Gibbons,” returned Rev. 
Vickering, “but I don’t fear military overgrowth so 
much as social unwieldiness.” 

“O, no danger of that, I suppose,” said Rev. Gibbons. 
“Christianity will keep pace with our growing popu- 
lation, and will leaven the social system into a perfect 
earthly paradise. The rigid home and family habit we 
all see about, and the Sabbath, with churches and Bibles, 
will hold this country for God and heaven,” was the 
evidently optimistic view expressed. 

“I trust that may be true, Brother Gibbons; and if 
it proves so, all other matters will be safe, to be sure — 
that’s the solution of all problems here — and future 
generations shall know ; but there’s another factor in 
the social problem that will count for much in the fu- 
ture, or I’m mistaken.” 

“What’s that, Brother Vickering? You’re not afraid 


The Legend of McNutt. 163 

of too many people and large cities, as in the East 
and Europe? 

“Not particularly, though that may be a problem for 
the distant future; but it’s the race problem that I 
can't settle in my mind. Certainly, with the growing 
spirit of Christian liberty which was planted in the 
very genesis of American life, not many centuries can 
pass until all slaves shall be freed, and then will come 
the greatest muddle thie world has ever known. But 
these are affairs that only God can direct and control, 
and they must and will all turn out for progress and 
religion.” 

“Pshaw, Brother Vickering, it can never be. Why, 
with our increasing military strength, what nation can 
ever presume to interfere with our institutions of slav- 
ery or any other? No, sir, this condition took root 
with all our other American institutions, and is grow- 
ing strong with the rest. It would be exceedingly un- 
popular in the ‘old dominion’ to talk that way.” 

“All that may be so, Brother Gibbons, and the deeper 
and stronger this institution of slavery grows into our 
social fabric the greater the breach in pulling it out, 
which eventually must be done, or neither history nor 
Christian liberty counts for anything ; and as to what 
nation shall undertake to cure our evils for us, I can’t 
think it will come that way. They all have problems 
enough of their own, and we shall be left, no doubt, 
to root out our own root's of bitterness ; but it can be 
done somehow, and will be done, even if the heroic 
remedy of amputation is necessary.” 

“Well, Brother Vickering, thar’s plenty of room an’ 
time for that yit. We’ll leave them things to the fu- 


164 The Legend of McNutt. 

ture ; but what muddle was ’at you spoke of while ago 
you said would come?” interrogated Mr. Pluet. 

“Why, I’ve thought, Brother Pluet, that with the 
freedom of the negro and the widening of our Southern 
influence among the Spanish and Malays of Central 
and South America we would, after a few centuries, 
have social equality by amalgamation, and then get to 
be either the best race that ever existed or the worst, 
and who can tell which it shall be ?’’ 

“Now, Brother Vickering,” rejoined the other preach- 
er, “that’s another farfetched speculation of yours that 
would be very unpopular in some parts. I never want 
to say or do anything that will contribute to negro or 
Malay amalgamation with any of my posterity; be- 
sides, I can’t imagine how such things can ever come 
to pass. Why my brother, don’t you know ‘there’s a 
great gulf fixed’ between the races in this country?” 

“I doubt not the unpopularity of my views, nor do 
I especially wish their fulfillment ; but I should be con- 
tent if I knew Divine Providence should order such a 
condition, even in this generation, which is not proba- 
ble, for only God can direct in such things, and if he 
does it, it will harm no one, however much against it our 
wishes or present prejudices may be set. And as to 
the ‘great gulf fixed,’ I don’t see it that way. Why, the 
very fact of the two races being thrown together in the 
intimate relations of master and servant will, in a few 
scores of years, break down the personal antipathies 
that exist, at least in part ; then each will naturally par- 
take of the habits and characteristics of the other to 
some extent, while the liberties taken by masters with 
their female slaves will also have much effect on the 
social status of the future. These conditions and 


The Legend of McNutt. 165 

the graded links between the two races coming in such 
narrow shades of difference up through the Malay, the 
South American Spaniard, the Central American mon- 
grel, the Southern mulatto and quadroon, lead to an 
almost certain obliteration of racial lines when all these 
shall be brought together in sufficient numbers, though 
it may be ages distant yet.” 

Sandy had by this time come in and was assisting 
with the evening meal, and so the social discussion was 
dropped, for no such was ever engaged in while slaves 
were present. Supper was announced, and a very 
pleasant repast was served by Mrs. Janes, who assumed 
the role of waitress, simply for the comfort and con- 
venience of the company. She was sensible enough to 
be as much at ease under present circumstances as she 
would have been in an English drawing-room. So 
also were the visitors, and the association was therefore 
pleasant, notwithstanding the limited equipage, for they 
cooked, ate, and slept in the one large room. 

Her conversational qualities were rare, and she en- 
tertained as well as served during the meal. In brief, 
Mrs. Janes recounted to them much of her past, includ- 
ing the motive of her removal with her husband to 
America, all of which enhanced her much in the esth 
mation of the clergymen; and finally, through one 
inquiry after another, led to the full disclosure of why 
she was with Mr. and Mrs. Pluet in that secluded re- 
treat, also of the whole Indian episode. 

“I should think you’d take this style of life very 
gloomily,” suggested Rev. Vickering, “one reared to 
luxury and protection as you must have been ; but I’m 
gratified at your cheerful spirit.” 

“O, I did feel downcast and melancholy at times for 


1 66 The Legend of McNutt. 

quite a little bit ; but long before our hardships became 
so intense I found, when reduced to extremities, that 
there is One ‘who is a very present help in time of need.’ 
O, I never could have escaped from the Indian but 
for the help of a divine hand. I never should have 
thought of feigning lunacy until I should have actually 
gone crazy. I never could have withstood his lustful 
onslaughts without help, nor could I have ever escaped 
the gloom of dread and loneliness — the constant night- 
mares of stifling fears — while in his custody without 
divine help. And O, most of all, I never could have 
escaped from myself, my own selfish self, but for the 
realization of the need of divine help and its supply. 
So you see I’m not now what I was, but I’m resigned 
and hopeful.” 

“You have found the philosopher’s stone both for this 
life and the next, if I mistake not,” Preacher Gibbons 
said reassuringly. “Verily ‘we can do all things 
through Christ which strengthened us.’ Did you join 
at Spring Hill also, Sister Janes?” 

“No, sir; my membership is in the Establishment of 
England at the old family chapel in Stratford. We 
have none of this faith hereabout, I suppose ?” replied 
the lady. 

With such and other general remarks the meal ended 
and all gathered about the fire. 

The negro now came forward to take his meal and 
clear away the table. He had been recognized by the 
ministers and accorded a hearty handshake by both 
when he first entered; but his modesty or training, 
which are about one, forbade his further intruding into 
the conversation. The instances are rare nowadays 
when such recognition stimulates no unseemly “up- 


The Legend of McNutt. 167 

pishness” in an African; but Sandy was an average 
specimen of respectfulness among them at that day. 

“Well, Sandy, the members at Spring Hill had about 
lost sight of you, and discussed dropping your name 
from the roll some weeks ago, you hadn’t been to class 
in so long ; but I vouched for you, and told them you’d 
be all right when heard from. Do you still enjoy your 
religion so as to make my vaunting true?” said Rev. 
Gibbons. 

“Thank y’, sir; thank y’, sir; I’s mighty proud da 
didn’ turnt me out down dar, cause I been doin’ de bes’ 
I can all de time, sir. An’ as for de vaunt’n’, I didn’ 
knowd it wuz right for de Mephudis’ to be er vaunt’n’ 
any ; den I hain’t had nothin’ to be vaunt’n’ ’bout, sir, 
way up here, nohow. I did brag, sir, to myse’f er lit- 
tle when I wuz huntin’ of Red Elm, dat I wuz gwyner 
kill him, sir ; but Mars done kilt him, sir, when I got 
dar, an’ I don’t hope de Lawd gwyner hoi’ dat ergins’ 
me, do. Den ol’ Mis’ been l’arnin’ me de Bible an’ how 
to pray an’ all, ’long wid de chil’en. De Lawd been 
good to us sometimes, mos’ al ys, too, when Miss Patsy 
git to singin’ an’ git happy lack, sir; den I feels good 
kinder, too, an’ wants to go back to de meetin’house 
ergin.” 

“That’s all right, Sandy. As long as you enjoy reli- 
gion and strive to please God and your owners that way 
we’ll keep you on the list as long as we can hear from 
you once in a while. That was a happy night at the 
old meetinghouse, Sandy, when you joined the Church. 
I felt that you were really and truly converted.” 

“Thank y’, sir; I knowed dat wuz de place for me, 
cause Miss Patsy she got happy an’ j’ined, an’ I 
knowed dat I oughter, too. Thought ol’ Mars wuz 


1 68 The Legend of McNutt. 

gwyner git r’lig’on, too, dat night, but den he runned.” 
At this Sandy and Mrs. Pluet, with the children, 
indulged in a little merry laugh ; but, as the others failed 
to join them, they cut their merriment short, when Mr. 
Pluet remarked, “Ah, Sandy, you al’ys run anything 
in the ground,” appearing to be embarrassed. 

“You say, Sister Janes, that you hold the faith of the 
Establishment? I fear you will be long without com- 
munion, unless you take refuge in the Protestant Epis- 
copal Church; and, without a chance, it will be some 
time before you have that opportunity ; for they are not 
good pioneers, you know, and usually wait till towns 
and cities rise before they build churches, and that must 
be some time in the future here,” kindly remarked Rev. 
Mr. Vickering. 

“I don’t really think I said I hold the faith of the Es- 
tablishment, but that my membership is with that com- 
munion. If I could clear up my mind on two or three 
passages of scripture, I think I should like to cast my 
lot with the Methodists. Perhaps you gentlemen can 
assist me somewhat, though of course I know in ad- 
vance that your interpretation is from a Methodist view 
point, and that you are honestly satisfied in your posi- 
tions, so I wouldn’t presume to argue the points for 
your benefit; but I am honestly at sea on some points, 
and should like to have your views for my benefit, 
whether I finally agree with you or not.” 

These perfectly candid remarks indicated to the 
preachers both her independency of thought and her 
possible accessibleness for future membership in their 
Church. They also realized that she would have to be 
dispossessed of some preconceived ideas ere she would 


The Legend of McNutt. 169 

be satisfied in the Methodist Church, to which task 
neither wished to address himself if she were satisfied 
to remain an Episcopalian, for proselyting is a practice 
from which Methodist preachers and people have uni- 
formly refrained — though just at this stage of the de- 
velopment of ecclesiastical conditions there was much 
defensive discussion on doctrine among Methodists, 
which sometimes took a vehement form, but never in- 
tentionally offensive on their part. 

“Then, Sister Janes, you may state the 'cause of your 
dissatisfaction, and if it doesn’t seem offensive to your 
love for your mother Church we will do what we can 
to set your mind at ease,” replied Rev. Mr. Vickering ; 
“but whatever may be your peculiar views or special 
preference for your mother Church, while you maintain 
your experience of conversion you related, you will be 
welcome to membership among us. Methodism is lib- 
eral toward all in these matters.” 

“I am very much obliged,” responded the lady, “but 
I couldn’t afford to do violence to my own consciousness 
of right or my Church obligations by assuming mem- 
bership in another communion while my sympathies 
and support are supposed to be elsewhere. That would 
be double dealing with very sacred matters.” 

“I think, myself, that it is unfortunate that you failed 
to secure a certificate of membership before sailing, 
which would have formally dismissed you from your 
home Church ; but you may, if you choose, do the next 
best thing by sending for one as soon as international 
relations are adjusted ; or, the next best, you may unite 
with us here and send a letter at your earliest conven- 
ience to your English curate, notifying him that you 
are a member here.” 


iyo 


The Legend of McNutt. 

“I shall consider the matter, but to the passages. I 
have always considered that there are but two grand 
divisions of Christian doctrine — or theology, as you will 
likely express it — and they are Calvinism and Armin- 
ianism. These, to my mind, are radically different, if 
not converse. All other subdivisions are but modifica- 
tions, defacements, or confusions of these two. I can- 
not, consistently, be partly one and partly the other; 
but I think from the effort to do so, on the part of some, 
have arisen the varied inconsistencies of many extant 
creeds. Each of these two systems is self-consistent. 
If I am an advocate of one, I am not of the other ; and 
I am in some doubt to which I adhere — which is the 
most scriptural — for, while my catechism training has 
all been in the former, I often feel that there are glaring 
discrepancies existing between the system and many 
plain passages of scripture, which, if I could espouse 
them, would be very consoling and helpful to me. 
And I have also decided that the Establishment of En- 
gland and ‘Scotch Presbyterianism’ are the clearest 
champions of the former, and that Methodism is the 
only unmodified exponent of the latter. Am I correct 
in these positions ?” 

“To my mind you are clearly right on general princi- 
ples,” replied Rev. Mr. Gibbons. “As to your special 
predilections on matters of Church government and 
modes of worship, etc., I am not prepared to say ; for 
these great Churches stand for other things as well as 
for peculiar forms of doctrine. The Church of En- 
gland resists dissenters from its ritual and union with 
the State as much as dissenters on points of doctrine — 
if any difference, more. This’ was also true of Pres- 


The Legend of McNutt. 171 

byterianism when strong in England. But wherein are 
you doubtful ?” 

“One particular is in the foreknowledge of God. If 
he foreknew and decreed all things, why, they are un- 
changeable, and it is useless to make any effort to be 
saved or to escape damnation.” 

“Certainly, if foreknowledge is foreinfluence ; for 
who could successfully resist God? But the matter 
stands quite differently. An event or a fact must first 
really exist before there can be knowledge of it — this is 
a universal principle of knowledge ; and, if this be the 
state of affairs, God’s foreknowledge doesn’t amount 
to influence, or to a predetermined decree. It was a 
great misfortune for the Christian world that St. Paul’s 
whole argument in the letter to the Romans has been 
so woefully misunderstood. The whole plan and pur- 
pose of his argument is to prove that salvation is by 
faith and not by the law, either the law of nature or 
the law of God — that the Gentiles cannot be saved by the 
law of nature, nor the Jews by the law of God — which 
certainly would not be the truth if divine decrees are 
the source of salvation or damnation ; for none can con- 
ceive of God decreeing things to come to pass but ac- 
cording to a divinely wise and self-consistent law. And 
here, in mistaking Paul’s teaching, is where the train of 
thought gets warped and turned wrong side up. A 
wrong start prefixes a wrong finish. Erroneous prem- 
ises will lead through perfectly consistent lines of rea- 
soning to wrong conclusions ; and this is the only reason 
why there can be two radically variant systems of 
thought on the same subject, each consistent within 
itself.” 

“But still,” insisted Mrs. Janes modestly, for she was 


iy± The Legend of McNutt. 

now under the influence of a view of the book of Ro^ 
mans she had never before conceived, “in this same 
book St. Paul teaches that ‘whom he did foreknow, he 
also did predestinate to be conformed to the image of 
his Son/ etc. How can this be reconciled with the oth- 
er view of salvation by faith, with freedom to choose 
or refuse in the individual ?” 

“First,” said Rev. Mr. Vickering, “a correct idea of 
omniscience should be held. Not in the sense of pre- 
dicting or foretelling does God know events which are 
future to man. It is that intimate knowledge which 
traces every event in the history of an individual able to 
choose and refuse, and knows the exact power of resist- 
ance the soul may possess, and just when and to what 
extent the assistance of divine grace will be used or 
neglected, and just the force of evil which will be faced, 
and the degree of individual volition the soul will ex- 
ercise, and which way exerted, and the final resultant 
of forces which shall make or mar the happiness of the 
character, as ‘seeing the end from the beginning/ With 
all these, as immediately present to the divine mind, 
a conclusion is reached, which is mercifully reserved 
from man, for general purposes of society— that the 
ends of penal justice may preserve order among pro- 
bationers — but still known to God. In this sense the 
passage referred to may be applied to individuals, but 
we should still notice that the foreknowledge precedes 
the predestination ; hence it was not the decree that pro- 
voked the knowledge, but, conversely, the knowledge 
disposed the decree. 

“The divine mind proceeds upon a definite, self-con- 
sistent mode, in dealing with sentient creatures, which 
we call divine law. According to this rule, he in a 


The Legend of McNutt. 173 

sense decreed that all who violate the laws of their har- 
monious existence with him should naturally receive 
the penalty. Now, if a decree wrought damnation, no 
violation would be necessary to its fulfillment ; but the 
decree being only against transgressors, no penalty is 
pronounced before actual violation — for sin has no ex- 
istence until committed, being active and not attributa- 
ble, under grace. Just as in the case of statutory crim- 
inal codes : these amount to anticipatory decrees that 
whoever violates them shall suffer the penalties, and 
this is for the common weal ; but these do not operate 
against law-abiding citizens. Only when a culprit has 
infringed upon his government and forfeited its favor 
and protection does the decree become effective against 
him. This, I think, illustrates the only revealed sys- 
tem of decrees from our God. 

“But upon the whole, this passage refers to the call- 
ing of the Jews into national recognition as ‘a peculiar 
people;’ for does he not say in Romans ix., 'Jacob have 
I loved, but Esau have I hated ?’ plainly referring to the 
division of the race into Jew and Gentile, whereby the 
former were to be ‘conformed to the image of his Son’ 
as a ‘royal priesthood,’ or rather to form a lineage of 
the pure and unamalgamated seed of Abraham as a 
‘holy nation’ through which the Son was to have his 
advent into the world, by which seed ‘all the nations of 
the earth shall be blessed.’ ‘And he that spared not 
his only Son, but delivered him up for us all , how shall 
he not with him freely give us all things ?’ ” 

“Those are sound positions and will be satisfactory, 
if only two other passages are as consistently under- 
stood ; then I shall be able to dispose of all doubts as to 
free moral agency, and I’ll give up. They refer to 


174 The Legend of McNutt. 

Pharaoh being raised up that God might show forth 
his power in him, that his name might be published 
abroad, etc. ; and to the potter having power over the 
clay to make one vessel unto honor and one unto dis- 
honor. It seems to me these are such clear instances 
of predestination and decrees that all contrary pas- 
sages would have to be bent to them.” 

As Mrs. Janes submitted these propositions, her in- 
telligent face expressed much concern in the reply, for 
she had thrown down the gauntlet and realized that she 
had invited the guns to storm her last and strongest 
intrenchments ; besides, she was honestly anxious to 
disengage her mind from the foibles of such harsh doc- 
trines, for she naturally rebelled against the idea of 
God’s consigning myriads of innocent souls, including 
many infants, to eternal punishment, for no just cause 
arising in overt acts. She was the mother of one in- 
fant that had unconsciously had its advent into this 
world and its exit — her firstborn — and she couldn’t 
bear the idea of its being lost, though she had often 
heard the possibility of it from the pulpit in her Church. 
Hence her interest in Rev. Mr. Vickering’s reply had 
a deeper significance than he knew. 

“As to Pharaoh’s case,” he said, “God has the un- 
questionable right to refuse those who will not be saved 
on his terms, and this was evidently the case with Pha- 
raoh, to whom God declared, after numerous demon- 
strations of stubborn rebelliousness, ‘ For this very thing 
have I raised thee up ’ — or, if he repented not, this 
would be the inevitable result of his being raised up, 
that by making him a great and glorious king God had 
originally intended to declare his name through all the 
earth ; if it were necessary to drown him and his armies 


The Legend of McNutt. 175 

in the Red Sea, the cause would rest in the wickedness 
of the Egyptians, and not in any forestallment on God’s 
part, who did not make Pharaoh wicked, but found him 
so, and the proudest and greatest of Egyptian princes, 
hence the fittest subject for the illustration of divine 
justice. 

“There is also a more extended significance in the 
passage : the Egyptians were the dispensers of idolatry 
to all surrounding nations, and worshiped the river, the 
insects, animals, meteors, the air, and the sun ; God 
doubtless determined to show his power over all their 
gods, and, while delivering his people Israel from bond- 
age, convince the Egyptians and surrounding nations, 
who would soon learn of all these wonders, that their 
idols were but creatures and subject to his power, so 
drawing them to the worship of the true God. But 
who can say that God could not as effectually have 
shown forth his majesty through Pharaoh on the throne 
of an absolute monarchy had he yielded to the miracu- 
lous evidences of divine power and repented of the af- 
flictions that had been heaped on the Israelites, and so 
saved himself and others? Witness that Pharaoh 
whom Joseph served and Nebuchadnezzar, whom Dan- 
iel served. 

“The case of the 'potter and the clay’ is one of the 
clearest illustrations of divine mercy and effort extend- 
ing every opportunity to the individual in all the Bible. 
St. Paul evidently had in mind the words of Isaiah in 
the eighteenth chapter. Here the potter is represented 
as workingclayto make a certain vessel — presumably a 
vessel of honor — but the 'clay was marred in his hands, 
and he made of it another vessel as seemed good to the 
potter,’ Now, no artisan will make an inferior article 


176 The Legend of McNutt. 

of superior material, assuming that he is skilled and 
wise. The potter didn’t cause the clay to be inferior, 
but found it so; and then didn’t reject it altogether, but 
gave it another trial, probably converting it to crockery 
or a flowerpot instead of the beautiful vase it might 
have been had it been capable. The difference between 
potter’s clay and human beings remains a factor which 
cannot be ignored. The former is inert, and therefore 
absolutely at the mercy of the potter, to deal with as he 
chooses, while the latter are endowed with original, vol- 
untary capabilities of improving themselves under the 
wise manipulations of a skillful heavenly Father, and 
so fit themselves, as ‘colaborers with God,’ for com- 
panionship with him. Here is free moral agency.” 

This was quite a lengthy and at times abstruse elab- 
oration of those texts to be a matter of social conversa- 
tion ; but this company regarded it as very interesting, 
espcially Mrs. Janes, who at its conclusion remarked : 
“These are simple but forceful arguments, and I’m glad 
that the positions of Arminianism may be so well main- 
tained. Now I find ‘an anchor of hope’ in faith and 
free moral agency, but there is another contingency, 
which I doubt not will easily fall into line also after the 
change of base. I mean ‘unconditional perseverance 
of saints’ as taught by Calvinists and denied by Armin- 
ians.” 

“O yes, we are told ‘once in grace, always in grace,’ 
based on a total misapprehension of John iii. 5, 6, 
Here conversion is represented as being ‘born again.’ 
In the case of physical birth the child has no choice of 
parentage, nor can natural relations ever afterwards be 
changed or renounced. Not so in spiritual conversion. 
It is not really a birth at all, and this passage is only a 


177 


The Legend of McNutt. 

figure of speech expressing the radical change from 
spiritual darkness and the incapability of exercising in 
spiritual truth to ‘the marvelous light and liberty of 
the people of God/ And in spiritual regeneration the 
child may choose the family of God into which he is to 
be adopted — for it is adoption, pure and simple — and 
may renounce the relation at will. He also has the 
choice of parentage, for ‘choose you this day whom ye 
will serve’ is a passage in point; and we are not less 
capable of choosing and refusing after we become Chris- 
tians than we are before. True, we are assured that no 
man is able to pluck us from Him, ‘who is able to keep 
that we have intrusted to him against that day,’ but 
that doesn’t prevent our renouncing his protection at 
will, else we would be bond slaves to God, which is in- 
compatible with both experience and scripture. 

“Then again, if no danger attended the Christian’s 
position, why should so much warning against it enter 
into the Holy Scriptures? and if it were not needed, 
why so many promises to encourage us to ‘hold out 
faithful to the end, for the same shall be saved?’ and 
why such a collection of armory and such bulwarks of 
defense as are found in the Bible, if there is no danger 
from any quarter? And how is it that with all these 
defenses and protections yet ‘strait is the gate and 
narrow is the way, and few there be that find it ?’ No, 
my sister, election comes about by voting with God 
against the devil : two votes against one will always 
carry in a free government like our Father’s, and he 
and Satan have both already voted for our souls ; the 
only question that remains is which way we will cast 
the deciding vote, for we are arbiters as to our own 
future.” 

12 


178 The Legend of McNutt. 

Mrs. Janes sat pensive and thoughtful a few moments 
while the fire was being mended, and then confessed : 
“I am surprised that I had not before viewed these 
things in that light. I shall secure some treatises on 
doctrine in the Arminian faith and endeavor to post 
myself so as not to be so stupid again,” and her modesty 
caused a blush of pleasure to light up her features. 
“But I am very happy to announce myself a candidate 
for membership in an Arminian Church, and to feel 
so strong in my new position.” 

Here the preachers opened their saddlebags and gave 
out some tracts for the family use, and sold Mrs. Janes 
a few convenient volumes on Christian apologetics, as 
the custom was in those days with the “saddlebags 
brigade” to carry such books for sale. 

Mr. Pluet had been an interested listener all this 
while, and seemed to grow under conviction toward the 
latter part of the discussion. Turning to the preachers, 
he said : “I want yous to hold family services with us. 
We hain’t had public prayers in our house since we left 
Natchez ; an’ I want — ahem — yous — ahem — to pray for 
me’t I might be a Christian an’ j’in the Church.” 

Good Mrs. Pluet could now restrain no longer, but 
burst into streaming tears, for her eyes had been swim- 
ming, and she kept busy wiping the overflow from her 
nose during the last few minutes, and the company 
seemed in a very sanctum of divine presence. 

The twenty-third Psalm and the twelfth chapter of 
John were read, and a very appropriate and touching 
hymn was sung while all stood together, after which 
Rev. Mr. Vickering led the prayer. None in his day, 
it is said, were more eloquent in prayer than he. He 
talked to God as one pleading for life to one whom he 


179 


The Legend of McNutt. 

knew would grant his petition. After confessions, and 
the rulers and soldiers had been remembered, each mem- 
ber of the company by name shared his requests, and 
he drew to a close in earnest, fervent importunity for 
the head of the family, that he might give his heart to 
God. The hearty “amens” of the other preacher and 
the emotional sobs of the women grew warmer toward 
the close, when Mrs. Pluet drowned all sounds by giv- 
ing vent to a joyous faith in ringing peals of “Glory, 
hallelujah ! glory to God !” with slapping of hands to- 
gether and bursts of cry-laugh. 

Mr. Pluet, in a calm manner, but with face lighted 
up with joy, embraced her in his arms, then went around 
the circle giving each his hand. By the time he reached 
Rev. Vickering, he broke out into a gladsome laugh, 
and they embraced each other. The preacher shouted 
and the new convert wept and laughed. The company 
all took up the appropriate hymn, “O happy day that 
fixed my choice,” led by the other preacher, which con- 
tinued for some minutes. Mrs. Janes was unusually 
impressed. Never in her life had she experienced such 
thrills of heaven as now. The great swelling floods 
of light and love seemed to overwhelm her soul, then 
to subside; and when she looked at the others or at- 
tempted to speak her joy flowed again; until at length 
she could restrain no longer, and she gave vent to her 
emotions in shouts and praises, which thoroughly 
frightened her children, for they had never heard or 
seen the like before. The two ladies were soon locked 
in each other’s arms, and sisters never loved more truly 
even in heaven. 

Sandy was much edified, and said : “Dis ’min’ me of 
de night da all lack to went to heben at demeetin’house ? 


i8o The Legend of McNutt. 

'cep dat Mars Dan he’s ’long dis time. ’Clare ef I don’ 
b’l’eve dis is er meetin’house.” 

Rev. Mr. Gibbons now opened the doors for member- 
ship, when Mr. Pluet and Mrs. Janes both united with 
the Church. Next morning after breakfast prayers 
were conducted again, and the communion service ad- 
ministered to all, including the slave. The preachers 
were tendered the use of Sandy and Genette to help 
them back to Cottonwood Bend, where they had left 
their boat, which they gladly accepted. Mr.' Pluet 
walked out some distance with them on the road, and 
on bidding them adieu he presented to each a ten-dollar 
gold piece. The itinerants pursued their course with 
joy, and the happy pioneers settled down to the use of 
the means of grace and the common pursuits of life on 
Red Elm Lake. 


CHAPTER X. 

But, when the next sun brake from underground, 

Then those two brethren slowly, with bent brows, 
Accompanying the sad chariot bier, 

Passed like a shadow through the field, that shone 
Full-summer, to the stream whereon the barge, 

Palled all its length in blackest samite, lay. 

There sat the lifelong creature of the house, 

Loyal, the dumb old servitor, on deck, 

Winking his eyes, and twisted all his face. 

So those two brethren from the chariot took 
And on the black decks laid her in her bed, 

Set in her hand a lily, o’er her hung 
The silken case with braided blazonings, 

And kissed her quiet brows, and, saying to her, 

“Sister, farewell forever,” and again, 

“Farewell, sweet sister,” parted all in tears. 

— Tennyson. 

The winter passed with its usual cold and snow. 
The family on the lake fared as well as any pioneers of 
their day, with their enforced primitive habits and mea- 
ger supply of necessities, which rendered a close stay in 
imperative for all but the men. No slave ever exerted 
more energy and perseverance to serve his master and 
protect the feeble ones from cold than did Sandy, and 
all without ever a chide or rebuke from those he loved 
and served. Whenever an unusual blast of winter 
sounded forth his pulse-chilling notes of shivering dis- 
comfort from some Herculean arctic storm, and, shook 
out over the Southern borders of the temperate belt 
the crumbs of sleet and snow from the cloth of his peien- 
nial table board, as the refuse of his satiated frigidity, 
it was Sandy, whose naturally retreating, tropical na- 


1 82 


The Legend of McNutt. 

ture was most vulnerable, who braved the winter king’s 
trumpet charges and stood between the cutting lances 
of the knights of the fleece and the inmates of this hum- 
ble home, bearing the brunt in the forefront of the bat- 
tle. 

Mrs. Janes was now well into the second winter amid 
her new surroundings, and had succeeded so far in 
preventing any serious illness of either herself or chil- 
dren. Mr. and Mrs. Pluet had not fared so well. From 
exposure in the cypress brake Mr. Pluet contracted a 
severe cold, which manifested nearly a malignant form 
soon after the preachers visited them, and didn’t relent 
its tenacious grasp for several weeks. He had about 
recovered, however, by the middle of February. The 
weather had been ideal for quite a week, and he decided 
he could venture out with Sandy for bear, as lard (oil) 
was running low. Mrs. Pluet remonstrated with him, 
saying: “Now, Daniel, I hope you won’t go fur an’ stay 
out long, for you know a quick change’ d give you pneu- 
mon’a; an’ shore’s you go fur you’ll ketch it, cause 
these purty spells al’ys break up ’bout Friday with a 
onlucky change.” 

But they started soon Friday, thinking, of course, 
they wouldn’t need to go very far ; but, strange to say, 
no bear were found before noon, though they expected 
from the good weather s:ome would have rambled near 
their home. Finally, when Fleeter and Ringwood 
jumped one, they ran it in the opposite direction from 
home, and when the hunters overtook them they were 
on the Quiver, ten miles from home. They soon slew 
and butchered it, a huge, masculine fellow, weighing 
full four hundred pounds. Considerable labor was re- 
quired to dress the bear, and as night was coming on, 


The Legend of McNutt. 183 

to shutoff the possibility of housing it all that day, long 
poles must be cut, too slim for wild animals to climb, 
and the fat hunks stuck on the ends of these and ele- 
vated above the leap of panther and wolves. Other- 
wise they would have had their trouble only for their 
pains, and these carnivorous inhabitants would have 
reaped their reward. 

Of course, with Mr. Pluet’s physical weakness and 
the attendant labor of the long chase, then of dressing 
the game, at the end he was almost bathed in perspira- 
tion. But with some choice pieces of the bear, they set 
out for home long before sundown, though the sun 
was hidden by a heavy sheet of light-looking advancing 
cloud that spread the shadow of its lugubrious wings 
over all the wintry scene. The wind rose and chilled. 
Ere long a mist of round semirain, semisleet came in 
showers like April rain. Bleak and blinding howled 
the tempest, then slacked and veered away to distant, 
dying moans. The forest roared and dank cold settled 
in the agitated elements, as the hunters half felt their 
course, keeping in close touch with each other, and 
trudged homeward. 

An hour passed, and, as the tempest hurled against 
nature’s breastworks, the wide-stretching and dense 
forest was stirred to its dismal depths. And now the 
clouds and snow passed on like cavalry regiments in the 
van of the winter king’s blasting armies. Light took 
the seat of gloom for a brief space, as the sun, resting 
on his laurels in the west, shot forth myriads of darts 
of rebuke, as if to buffet off the storm, ere he bade Mor- 
pheus tuck against his couch, noddingward, the sable 
mantle of night. Five more miles lay before the weary 
huntsmen travelers ere home and couch could rest their 


184 The Legend of McNutt. 

tired limbs ; and their road was slippery, for the falling 
mist was clinging to everything it touched in shields 
of ice. A clearing sky and freezing atmosphere guid- 
ed and quickened their pace until deep dark caught them 
but two miles from shelter, plodding the old brake trail. 
The hounds had preceded them, having glutted their 
appetites and heated their blood at the flowing stream 
of bruin’s ebb tide ; they suffered no pain from cold, 
but skipped ahead homeward. When half an hour 
later the hunters told of the success of the chase by a 
glowing fire and thawed their frozen beards and gar- 
ments, their fingers throbbed with pain. Faithful Mrs. 
Pluet was all attention now, without rebukes or scolds, 
saying: “O, my dear Daniel, you must slip on dry 
clothes at onct, or you’ll die with the pneumon’a. It is 
awful bad a’ter you’ve been sick so long. An’ you mus’ 
too, Sandy, for you’ll be all the chance now, your mas- 
ter’s shore to be down. Git your clothes on quick, 
while we see ’bout the mule.” 

When the sun peeped up through the broidered tree 
tops Saturday morning he found that the object of his 
tender embrace, about which he fondled his ardent arms 
of light, had slept herself into crystallized glory, which 
he at once transformed into an ever-varying shield of 
silver sheen, gilded with gold and purple — a fitting mir- 
ror in which to view his own resplendent fashions. The 
forest was mailed in thin ice, and the thermometer 
would have registered ten degrees above zero. Mr. 
Pluet managed to rise and dress for breakfast, but 
soon after resumed his bed with a chill. Sandy and 
Genette brought in the residue of bear pork that day 
at two well-loaded trips. 

The next two weeks on Red Elm Lake were full of 


The Legend of McNutt. 185 

anxious hours, for they measured the time in which the 
family’s chief supporter’s life hung in the balance; for 
pneumonia set up sure enough, and barely left Mr. Pluet 
alive. 

On the heels of Mr. Pluet’s recovery his wife fob 
lowed with a somewhat lighter attack. This necessi- 
tated added and unusual exposure for Mrs. Janes, and 
lasted till the middle of March. Spring was late, min- 
gled with much semiwintry weather. The battle be- 
tween the receding and approaching seasons was now 
on, and rendered Mrs. Pluet’s recovery very slow, and 
settled upon Mrs. Janes a deep-seated and annoying 
cold. A dull season this indeed for them all. Nothing 
had been heard of the happenings of the outside world 
in weeks, though the Christmas Treaty of Peace be- 
tween the United States and Great Britain and the fa- 
mous defeat of Pakenham at New Orleans by Old 
Hickory on the 8th of January had filled the news col- 
umns and agitated the court and military circles of the 
world for weeks past. Mrs. Pluet was now put to the 
extent of her feeble powers, supplemented by all that 
Sandy could do to prolong the housekeeping and watch 
by the bedside of Mrs. Janes, who now took her turn 
at pneumonia, which, in her case, seemed from the very 
beginning to be of a virulent type. Surely “troubles 
came not singly, but in droves” to these lake dwellers. 

Mrs. Janes had grown steadily worse for a week. 
Unconsciousness now prevailed. At midday, near the 
first of April, the attention of the family was attracted 
by the unusual agitation of the hounds, which were 
rarely disturbed in this manner, now that varmints 
scarcely ever intruded into the clearing or near the 
house. Knowing this, Mr. Pluet hastened to the yard, 


1 86 The Legend of McNutt. 

and to his surprise met Captain Janes, tattered, and 
bronzed in the March wind almost beyond recognition, 
returning from the war. The greeting was mutually 
cordial, but excited. The Captain inquired : “Where 
are Sarah and the children ?” 

“In the house ; but don’t go in yit. She’s monstrous 
low ’ith pneumon’a,” responded Mr. Pluet. “The 
chil’en’s all right, but she hain’t, by a sight.” 

At this a natural agitation possessed the Captain, and 
he pushed toward the door. The children met him just 
outside, and neither parent nor children at once recog- 
nized the other. The children had grown larger, and 
the garments of all had grown threadbare. But the 
unfamiliarity soon gave place to joyous caressing, in 
which the children momentarily forgot their precau- 
tion and the father wept great glistening tears of 
mingled joy and fear. 

When he reached his wife’s bedside, she was under 
a paroxysm of delirium, as she had often been of late. 
“That’s the awful redskin !” she said. “He’s come to 
steal me off again — but his head is on again now — 
There! — now I suppose you’ll die, you vagabond! — 
O what horrors of blood !” she continued to say, halt- 
ing, bubbling, and murmuring. Then : “Such a dread- 
fully, ghastly, headless demon ! Take him away ! 
Take him away! Take him away! p-l-e-a-s-e, a — O, 
ho, he, he!” This, of course, her husband couldn’t 
understand at first, but the friends explained that she 
had been agitated thus occasionally for two or three 
days, when she seemed to see a headless Indian Mr. 
Pluet had slain in her presence, in her defense, during 
the past summer. Of course the Captain was an in- 
terested listener as they recounted the incidents of 


The Legend of McNutt. 187 

the kidnaping, in whispers between her spells of rav- 
ing delirium. 

“There ! — there he is ! — O — look now — it’s dressed 
— like a — headless woman — take it off of me ! Awe — 
ha ! ho ! he ! he ! While I was well and played crazy 
I scared him back, but now — I can’t keep him from 
doing me that way — but now — his head is — off and 
he — can’t be frightened away — take him off, can’t you ? 
— O, it’s so awful, dreadful ! — O Henry, Henry !” 

“Here’s your Henry, my darling,” he said, as he 
slightly moved the position of her chest, and bent over 
with the great, manly tears streaming from his cheeks. 
In the slight move he caused some unusual pain, which 
seemed to half awaken her. Probably it was as much 
from hearing his voice, though he had repeatedly tried 
to attract her attention before, but without success. 
Now she looked up. “Where?” staring. “Why, here 
you are, sure enough. O, how I thank God for that !” 
she said in short breaths, and feebly folded her weak 
hands about his neck and shoulders, while he tried to 
gather her to his bosom; but an excruciating pain 
forbade him, and he had to content himself with ca- 
ressing her arms, face, and hair. 

After a short time, she looked about wildly, saying : 
“Is this all a dream, or have I really awakened? O, 
such a horrible sight that Indian is !” she feebly mut- 
tered. Mrs. Pluet had turned away in tears at their 
greeting, but she hastily dried them, and returned to 
their side saying, in gentle, reassuring tones : “No, no, 
this is no dream. Here is Capt’in Janes done come 
back from the wars to nu’s’ you well. Do you feel 
better, my dear ?” 

She only drew her husband to her closer and be- 


1 88 The Legend of McNutt. 

came more awake, while the color returned to her 
cheeks and her eyes began to swim in telltale tears, 
dripping to the bed linen, trickling fast and mingling 
from both their eyes. Presently severe pain agitated 
her, and she relaxed her hold, then looked at him 
over and over as she wept. “Why, you look so hag- 
gard and worn, my dear husband. Can’t you make 
some sort of a toilet, and then come sit by me all day ? 
O, I’m so afraid I’ll have that horrid dream again ! 
Why on earth didn’t you awake me sooner ? Wasn’t I 
struggling?” 

“Yes, but we did our best to awake you; but tell 
me, what were you dreaming ?” he inquired as he gen- 
tly stroked her forehead and her hands. 

“O, the awful Indian excitement! Haven’t they 
told you about it?” He nodded. Then, promising to 
remain with her and take care to relieve her if she 
began to dream again, he went about his toilet-mak- 
ing, and she lapsed into a peaceful sleep. 

Three hours of this recuperating rest passed, and 
she became flighty. “Ah, there — now, don’t you see 
him — skulking in the cane. He’s afraid to venture 
up now — he knows you are here. But still, without a 
head — and dressed like a woman. Wonder he could 
know without a head — but he’s coming*! Can’t you 
frighten him? Get your sword!” 

And then her husband and Mrs. Pluet succeeded 
in arousing her. Mrs. Pluet remembered that it was 
moving her chest that restored consciousness before, 
and she tried it again and succeeded. It is a wonderful 
intuition that prompts a woman to these quick in- 
sights. 

For two or three days Mrs. Janes occasionally saw 


The Legend of McNutt. 189 

the phantom in her sleep, and with similar results, but 
they were less frequent as she improved, and within 
a week she was pronounced convalescent. Another 
week passed, and she could sit up in bed. The other 
members of the family continued to strengthen, and 
she had every attention loving hearts could render. 

Soon after this the Captain made known to her that 
he had orders to report at Nashville by the first of 
May to receive his wages for the last year’s service. 
She was despondent over the idea at first, but soon 
rallied and consented for him to go. The mule was 
placed at his service and Sandy sent to help him across 
the river with his baggage. They found the small flat- 
boat in navigating condition, and ferried mule and all 
across on it. The route to Nashville lay to the east 
till the Natchez Trace was reached, thence by that to 
Nashville. Sufficient means was supplied to the Cap- 
tain, by Mr. Pluet, for his northward journey ; and, at 
the morning prayers, journeying mercies were in- 
voked upon him. He reached the city of Nashville 
the first days of May, received his wages and a com- 
mission to organize a regiment of volunteers in Mis- 
sissippi against emergencies, and left at once for home. 

The day of her husband’s departure was sad for Mrs. 
Janes. Toward evening her fever rose slightly. Next 
morning it was off, but rose still higher in the after- 
noon. All their simple remedies failed to control her 
temperature and she grew steadily worse till, they 
said, she developed a stubborn case of typhoid. With- 
in a week she was again unconscious, and in her fe- 
verish visions saw the specter of the headless Indian 
in woman’s apparel. This would convulse her terribly 
until, in her fancy, her husband came to her relief, 


190 The Legend of McNutt. 

when she would fold in her feeble arms in perfect tran- 
quillity over whatever object of bedding, or other 
thing, happened to be in her reach — more often Mrs. 
Pluet than otherwise. Another week found her hour- 
ly sinking. 

They began to expect Captain Janes by this time ; 
but travel was slow over the Natchez Trace, so badly 
torn up by the return of Jackson’s army. On the 
morning of the 10th of May Mrs. Janes’s fever left 
and her temperature sunk below normal. The ap- 
plication of stimulants revived her and she became 
conscious. Then, summoning her children and friends, 
she informed them that she must go. She asked for 
her husband, and was told that he had not yet returned 
but was expected every hour ; to be hopeful and cheer- 
ful. “If he doesn’t come to-day, I won’t see him till 
he comes to heaven. Tell him not to miss the road, 
but to be sure to come.” 

The hounds were just then acting strangely again 
in the yard ; they were leaping and yelling in frantic 
glee as if meeting an acquaintance. One of the chil- 
dren came running in and reported that the preachers 
were near the house. Mr. Pluet hastened out to 
meet them, glad they had come. “Brethrens, yous 
couldn’t have come at a better time. Sister Janes is 
agoin’ to heaven to-day, an’ I know she’d like to 
speak a word before she goes.” 

“Can she talk, Brother Daniel?” asked one. 

“She could ’while ago, but yous’d better say your 
say quick, cause she can’t stay many hours.” 

Soon all were near the bed, the preachers on one 
side, Mrs. Pluet and all the children on the other, 


The Legend of McNutt. 191 

Mr. Pluet at the foot, and Sandy back toward the 
hearth, all weeping, for they loved her. 

Stimulants had been administered, but failed now 
to maintain her temperature. Mrs. Pluet took her 
hand and held it. It was cold. The listless eyes, half- 
closed, seemed to be fixed. Breathing was perceptibly 
more labored. Mrs. Pluet bent over the deathlike 
form, her eyes streaming and her voice forcefully 
repressed, and sobbingly awoke her, saying the preach- 
ers had come and wanted to speak with her. The 
dying lady looked up with a smile of glad surprise 
and tried to raise a hand, saying: “Thank the Lord, 
another prayer answered ! O, dear brethren, it’s all 
true about God and heaven. I’ve just been almost 
across to the other shore, but they called me back 
to talk to you. I suppose you want to know if 
death is dreadful. No ! It’s, chilly, but it’s so pleas- 
ant-looking over there. And one of those shining 
ones told me just now that Red Elm wasn’t there 
at all. Come and go with me, dear friends. O, if 
you could all go now ! and dear Henry ! Why doesn’t 
he come and tell me good-by, and promise me?” 
Here she lapsed into silence. After a few minutes she 
said : “There now ! Farewell, dear husband. Gome 
on after a while. O, my own dear Henry ! Kiss me. 
Take care of Nick and Lizzie, and bring them on too.” 
And she seemed to kiss her husband with all the 
affection of her soul. 

“O, what a shining company, all in white ! Don’t 
you hear the music of voices and harps?” Then her 
face lighted up with a superhuman beauty and she 
began to sing in a faint, barely audible voice. Her eyes 


192 The Legend of McNutt. 

set and, gradually growing lusterless, she joined in 
the imaginary song : 

There is rest for the weary, 

There is rest for the weary, 

There is rest for the weary, 

There is rest for you. 

On the other side of Jordan, 

In the sweet fields of Eden, 

Where the tree of life is blooming, 

There is rest for you. 

And with this song dying on her lips and a heavenly 
smile overspreading her face, which remained a fix- 
ture of her emaciated features after breath left her, 
she passed away, amid shouts and sobs of mingled 
joy and grief, in great peace. It was a glorious tri- 
umph in death for one who had truly battled with 
and overcome the world, the flesh, and the evil one. 

Thus, tradition informs us, was begun the burying 
ground at McNutt; and thus arose the superstition 
of the specter of “the headless woman of McNutt” 
which still lingers in the mind of children, excitable 
whites, and the colored population about this locality 
until this good day. 

Mrs. Janes was laid quietly away in a shallow but 
well-shaped vault which Mr. Pluet and Sandy, with 
the hearty cooperation of the ministers, walled up 
securely with broad cypress slabs, neatly adjusted 
inside the well-shaped vault, which served as the only 
substitute for a coffin. While the grave-making was 
in progress, Mrs. Pluet was undergoing, alone, in the 
house with the departed friend’s remains, a trial equal 
in sorrowful environment to the shrouding of an own 
dear sister. 

The impressive burial service was read next day 


•93 


The Legend of McNutt. 

at noon, after which the light and stiffened corpse 
was lowered on a litter, cut to fit, into the new-made 
grave, covered over with thick, even boards, and the 
earth closed over the remains of the departed saint, to 
await the resurrection of the just — the attendants “all 
in tears.” 

All this was very trying on Mrs. Pluet. Though 
much strengthened in faith, she was broken down in 
body. On the third day after the burial, after much 
cleaning and renovating, necessarily succeeding death 
in the family, she gave up exhausted with a chill, and 
had a high fever by night. Mr. Pluet and the min- 
isters had gone, that very morning, to Cottonwood 
Bend and taken trails leading east and west and 
north in search of other settlers whom the Leflores 
had said must be not far from this point. They found 
three other families above the Bend, and arranged 
with them a central meeting point at the Bend, for 
commercial and religious purposes. After conducting 
services with each family, they returned next day, just 
in time to fall in with Captain Janes, at the Bend, and 
proceed with him to their lake home and his wife’s 
new-made grave. 

The children were playing about the house ob- 
livious of the great sorrow that had come to the 
home. Vegetation bounded forth into new life again 
and birds were singing and bees humming among the 
blossoms of trees and wild flowers. The noonday 
sun was warm and life-giving ; and nature, outwardly, 
strove to stifle away the cloud of sorrow which so 
dimmed the vision of the company when the four men 
returned to the grave this bright day in the middle 
of May. The abundance of sympathy mitigated, in 
13 


194 The Legend of McNutt. 

part, the Captain’s great grief, yet he was completely 
unmanned. Only in the presence of his children 
could he find assuage of sorrow, and the thought 
of the irreparable bereavement of their tender years 
sometimes even brought added weight of anguish. 
Without ever experiencing the spiritual joy of release 
from the thraldom of disappointment, he united with 
the Church of his wife’s choice, and promised to meet 
her in heaven, while kneeling by the couch on which 
she died. 

The ministers were very guarded while conducting 
services in the home, for Mrs. Pluet.was entirely too ill 
to be agitated. The physical condition of a sick pa- 
tient is always carefully considered by a wise servant 
of God, and here there was likelihood of recovery, and 
no doubts about the spiritual prospects of the patient. 
Mrs. Pluet had not improved, however, under treat- 
ment, and much concern was felt about her condi- 
tion. There was no physician near, and common 
ideas of treatment were very primitive, being prin- 
cipally confined to the preparation of simple herb teas. 
Typhoid was not known to be infectious at that day, 
but this good lady had imbibed the infection while 
attending the bedside of Mrs. Janes. The Captain 
had bought some staple drugs at Nashville, among 
which was “cinchona bark for chills and fever.” The 
ministers had seen this used with good effect in Vir- 
ginia, and of course it was tried in Mrs. Pluet’s case. 

No good results followed, for after the first trial she 
became more nervous, and the fever of a higher grade. 
An increased dose was advised by the men present, 
and the effect was to precipitate hemorrhage from 
the kidneys (now known as “malarial hemorrhagia”), 


The Legend of McNutt. 195 

and, with the malignant complication, the patient 
unconsciously passed away at the end of the second 
day. Another burial service followed, similar to the 
first, and Mrs. Pluet was laid beside her late friend, 
under the sweeping elms, and sung with her the new 
song in the paradise of God, while their bereft hus- 
bands, with wringing hearts, were bound to each oth- 
er by a threefold cord which was not easily broken. 

There can be no adequate description of the dis- 
comfiture of the family now. Fear of the continued 
ravages of disease drove them to abandon the Mc- 
Nutt home, for a time, and repair to Natchez ; and, 
taking all their movables, they floated down in the 
boats, while Captain Janes rode the mule, east by 
south, till the Trace was found and followed on to 
Natchez. The spring rise of water had come and 
gone, and with it Mr. Pluet’s opportunity of floating 
out his large raft. Finances were low and no employ- 
ment open to them but to pitch a late crop. This 
they proceeded to do after spending much time re- 
pairing houses and fences, Sandy being appointed 
cook and housekeeper. 

Thus the two fragments of families set about to 
mend their broken fortunes and begin over again the 
battle of life, with far the longer and brighter part to 
at least two of them already gone. Years went by 
with rapid pace, and the throb of a new life and open- 
ing commerce drew many inhabitants from the older 
States to the Mississippi territory, and the country 
about Natchez was soon taken up, while the town 
grew to a respectable city. Captain Janes found suit- 
able homes for his children, where refinement and 
school advantages surrounded them. He launched 


196 The Legend of McNutt. 

out into trade in rafts and shipping interests general- 
ly, buying also furs and hide's and whatever fell with- 
in the range of his slowly mending fortunes, shipping 
abroad through the Mid-Atlantic Company, who con- 
tracted to dispose of all his valuables for him in suit- 
able markets. 

It was at the end of ten years, intervening between 
the events related in this and previous chapters and 
those of the introductory chapter, that the Captain 
had gone up the river with his old friend, Mr. Pluet, 
for a raft he had bought from a raftsman at Natchez, 
when the incidents occurred leading up to our first 
meeting with these pioneer heroes, on the bank of 
McNutt Lake in 1825. We now address ourselves, 
patient reader, to the resumption of the thread of our 
story which we dropped at the supper table, to gather 
up and bring forward the fragmentary facts, in order 
that their meeting and relations might the better be 
understood and appreciated. 


CHAPTER XL 

Be if a weakness, it deserves some praise — 

We love the play-place of our early days; 

The scene is touching, and the heart is stone 
That feels not at the sight, and feels at none. 

The wall on which we tried our graving skill, 

The very name we carved subsisting still; 

The bench on which we sat while deep employed, 

Tho’ mangled, hacked, hewed, not yet destroyed; 

The little ones, unbuttoned, glowing hot 
Playing our games, and on the very spot, 

As happy as we once, to kneel and draw 
The chalky ring, and knuckle dawn at taw, 

To pitch the ball into the grounded hat, 

Or drive it devious with a dexterous pat— 

The pleasing spectacle at once excites 

Such recollection of our own delights 

That, viewing it, we seem almost t’ obtain 

Our innocent, sweet, simple years again. — Cowper. 

Fletcher Pluet made up his mind to see Lizzie 
next day, and slept but little that night. He had 
never been associated with her, otherwise than as a 
playmate, and was in some doubt how he would 
think of her now. Two years had passed since she 
went away to New Orleans to attend the High School, 
in company with Nick and the family with whom 
they had spent seven years at Natchez. Nor did he 
know how she would regard him. Two years at this 
time of life alters many things, and sometimes the 
very mental affinities of people are changed, especially 
if different schools of training and experience enter 
into their characters and various other people and 
prospects engage the mind. These doubts and fore- 


198 The Legend of McNutt. 

bodings occupied the young man’s mind till late, and 
found him but partially refreshed when morning came. 

Long before noon Fletcher had overcome the dis- 
tance to Cottonwood Bend, in company with the two 
older men. The greeting between him and Lizzie 
was cordial and devoid of much formality, but Fletch- 
er feared there was a wider chasm between them than 
had ever seemed before. She was polite, but not so 
cordial as he really expected. The natural change 
in her girlish manners was not fully analyzed by 
Fletcher, and he fancied she was purposely shy of 
him. His dress was the best he had, but was badly 
used by hi's pioneer wintering, and he fancied this 
entered into her thought and attitude. So his first 
transaction with the trader was to purchase a suit of 
ready-made Boston jeans which nearly fitted, which 
the trader’s wife had changed from a military suit 
into civilian garb by removing all traces of the troop- 
er, for the batch of jeans suits had been secured from 
the government agent at Chickasaw Bluffs, being the 
uncalled-for surplus of supplies to the military post 
at that point. 

With this acquisition and such other articles as 
he could find to finish his unconventional toilet, he 
set out back to the lake home with his father, leaving 
the Janeses with the boat, under promise to visit them 
within a week, if a horse could be obtained from any 
of the squatters for Lizzie to ride, as she greatly de- 
sired to visit her mother’s grave when she learned 
that she was so near the scenes of her childhood. 
Fletcher, on reaching home, enlisted Sandy’s aid and 
constructed a cane booth in which he and his father 
and Sandy were to sleep, so that the Captain and his 


The Legend of McNutt. 199 

daughter could spend nights with them and occupy 
the room. The next task was to cut away the cane 
about the graves and clear out a trail from the cabin 
to them ; for all the clearing was now a thicket of 
cane and undergrowth, even more junglelike than the 
remainder of the forest, and was now designated a 
“deadening.” All which was accomplished in two or 
three days, and a note sent up by Sandy for the 
Janeses to come and spend a night or two with them. 
Fletcher merely stated in hJis note that of course 
they would wish to remain some time near the grave 
and in the old familiar haunts, though Lizzie was too 
young when they had abandoned the precincts to 
retain more than a vague idea of it all. She was only 
six when her mother died. 

The Captain procured the loan of suitable horses 
for a few days’ use, and he and Lizzie set out for 
the lake on a warm and pleasant morning in early 
June, to visit the scenes of former joy and sadness. 
As they rode along, the beautiful girl, now just en- 
tering on her seventeenth summer, drank in the fresh 
morning atmosphere, and faint fancies of nearly ef- 
faced memories strove to mount again to the throne 
of her rea'son. Her cheeks flushed with a glow of 
interest as she realized that she was traversing the 
same wild lands in which her mother had suffered so 
much hardship and had died ; but felt the confidence of 
security for herself which her mother had so sorely 
needed — the protection of her father. Her deep, gray 
eyes seemed to penetrate into mysteries of dreamland, 
while behind them worked a busy brain trying to un- 
ravel the misty haze of the half-deceptive familiarity 
with her surroundings. Her long, plaited tresses of 


200 The Legend of McNutt. 

darkly modified blonde hair waved sufficiently loose 
and full about her high and well-shaped forehead and 
delicately molded, plump face to give her a touch of' 
the appearance of the coquettish, and withal to re- 
veal a physiognomy of real beauty with the added in- 
dication of intellectual strength and perfect sincerity. 
The nose was of that perfectly even, well-proportioned 
straight, not too prominent, type so becoming to a 
lady. The mouth and chin were so far beyond the sculp- 
tor’s art as to have been a fitting model by which to 
train his ever-enhancing skill. Her mouth naturally 
remained closed and her features composed, indicative 
of a marked degree of development in intellectual 
culture and womanly graces, though even so young. 
If her mother had been beautiful, she wa's even more 
beautiful, as seeming to inherit the refinements of 
both branches of her noble English ancestry. Her 
father was justly proud of her, and lavished upon her 
the deepened affections which had been so sorely tried 
by many previous disappointments. He was cheerful 
in her companionship — a disposition which evidenced 
that he had rebounded entirely from the heavy pres- 
sure of loss into a strong manhood. 

Full three hours were required for the journey, as 
some hindrance was experienced in following a trail 
but little used. Toward it's close the Captain said : 
“We are now within a mile of the house, daughter, 
and, without an accident, we’ll soon be there. The 
nearer I approach your mother’s grave the sorer 
seems my bereavement of Nick. Poor boy. I had 
planned a bright future for him ! The Lord knows 
best, I reckon. The Lord knows best.” 

After Lizzie had repressed a sob and dried her 


The Legend of McNutt. 


20 i 


eyes, to try to be cheerful, she said : “Well, papa, it’s 
all over with them now, and though we miss them 
so sorely, we must accept the bereavement as our 
portion, in faith, and profit by it if we can. But really 
what do you think of our friends, the Pluets? You 
have often expressed yourself to me of others, but 
never of them ; and they have been great friends of 
ours. O, I would love Mr. Pluet, if I had never seen 
him, for his great kindness to mother.” 

“None can ever occupy the same high place in my 
esteem with Daniel Pluet, daughter. He is a true 
man, tried in the fire and found faithful. As for his 
son, I can’t express so much, for he has not yet been 
tested. But do you know he is very much interested 
in you? His visit and his note to you bear impress 
of a more than passing interest, I think.” 

At this remark the girl might have been noticed 
to crimson slightly, but she maintained her self- 
possession, whatever she may have felt. “I should 
think he would be naturally interested in us, far up 
here in the wildwoods where others are so few; then 
our family lines have had such an impressive cross- 
ing; but, otherwise, he seems rather unconcerned 
about me individually. I failed to note any mark of 
special attention in his demeanor toward me more 
than would have been extended to another of as in- 
timate acquaintance.” 

Nevertheless she now remembered more thought- 
fully the earnest, inquisitive look he gave her as he 
pressed her hand a little unnecessarily, when he ur- 
gently invited her to attend her father on his visit to 
the grave, and how her heart had quickened its beat 
slightly under its influence. She had really, though 


202 The Legend of McNutt. 

unconsciously, blushed and looked pleased in the 
depths of her expressive, gray eyes, which Fletcher 
had observed and weighed with remarkable interest 
as he held her hand. 

“Well, think as you wish about that, daughter, but 
he expressed great concern to see you when I found 
them lately in their retreat. It may be, however, as 
you say.” 

“Well, papa, do you think I am old enough to en- 
tertain thoughts of young men other than of mere 
friendship?” asked Lizzie, blushing deeply this time 
at the bare idea of asking her father such a question ; 
but she had no one else in whom to confide, and, 
since her recent meeting with Fletcher, she realized 
a secret longing in her heart which she felt willing to 
discuss with some one worthy of her confidence. 

Maidens of her age are more frank of their feelings 
and less skilled in the art of galvanizing expression 
than more experienced representatives of their sex, 
whose contact with the world warns them of possible 
deception, both of their imaginations and the outward 
demeanor of the harsher sex. It is matter of large 
experience, also, that early love is truest love, being 
much freed from the commercial idea and dictated 
more by the impressive innocence of lingering child- 
hood, which rarely mistakes in the discernment of 
affinities and the estimation of character, as far as 
acquaintance extends. 

“O, you should be able, my daughter, to decide that 
from your own feelings,” replied her father. “There 
is plenty of time yet ; and I hope you will not infer a 
choice as to your future companionship from what I 
said ; I wish you to be unbiased by my special prefer- 


203 


The Legend of McNutt. 

ences, for I realize that domestic happiness arises not 
in cold, calculating alliances formed for the conven- 
ience or pleasure of others, but from real heart im- 
pulses ; and in these matters I wish you to be your 
own arbiter, with absolute freedom of choice. I have 
taught you to discriminate character, and only insist 
that your mind shall continue to entertain associations 
of real personal worth. I only mentioned Fletcher 
Pluet’s interest in you, since you didn't appear to no- 
lice it, to put you on your guard if you didn’t wish to 
cultivate him. I think the Pluets are far too worthy 
to be trifled with, and I think you are equally too 
much so to trifle with yourself. Fletcher has the 
face of an honest young man, and before many years 
will be independent, financially, if they husband their 
Natchez real estate properly; for he, you know, is the 
only heir. When I offered to purchase that property 
Daniel said he wished to keep it for the full benefit 
of its enhancing value, and intended finally to dispose 
of the eighth nearest town, in town lots, to business 
men for residence lots. That was my purpose in 
offering to buy, and I so informed him before making 
the offer.” 

All this the girl pondered well, but remained in 
silence henceforth on the subject to the end of the 
journey. Lizzie had found an increasing esteem for 
Fletcher occupying her thoughts, but only considered 
him unencumbered with either financial or social ad- 
vantages, which she now saw possible for the first 
time in the prospect of the very probable develop- 
ment contemplated of the Natchez property. She 
wondered now whether she would be regarded as 
a worthy participant in the fortunes of the young man, 


264 The Legend of McNutt. 

and also whether she might not have misread his ex- 
pressive attitude she had but lately recalled. Lizzie 
had hitherto regarded Fletcher alone for what he 
was, and hoped herself viewed in the same light by 
him; but now she almost wished she had consented 
to take the ship to New York for better school ad- 
vantages there, that she might the better be prepared 
to fill the station to which she had ventured un- 
wittingly to aspire. And she consoled herself with 
the knowledge that it was not too late yet to avail 
herself of this opportunity, by resolving to take the 
advice of her friends and accept the offer extended 
by her father to go to New York next term. With 
this resolution and these reflections she rode in si- 
lence but a few minutes, when they came abruptly 
to a ford of McNutt Lake, from which a fresh trail 
led directly to the house, only two hundred yards 
away. 

The trusted slave was engaged about the house 
putting things generally in order for the expected 
“company,” though no special day was set for their 
visit, while Fletcher busied himself with some books 
belonging to Lizzie which he had brought back from 
the boat when he had returned from his recent visit. 
They were works on the “Doctrines of Christianity,” 
by Clark and Fletcher, of England, the latter of whom 
Rev. Mr. Tobias Gibson had extolled very highly to 
Mrs. Pluet when Fletcher was an infant, and caused 
his mother to give him the name. The books showed 
they had belonged to Mrs. Janes, by having her name 
beautifully inscribed in the delicate characters of a 
lady’s handwriting. 

Sandy paused at the sound of horses splashing 


205 


The Legend of McNutt. 

through the water at the ford. “Dar now, Mars 
Fletch’, I tor you da cornin’ dis purty day; an’ sho’ 
’nough dar da is. Here, lemme brush you some wid 
dis broom an’ help you git on your coat. Does you 
want to go out to meet ’em?” 

This was answered with a simple “Yes” as Fletcher 
hastened out in time to assist the young lady from 
the horse and escort the two to the house, while Sandy 
cared for the horses. 

“Where is Daniel, Fletcher ?” inquired Captain 
Janes, when they had been seated a few minutes. “I 
don’t see him about the place ; has he gone fishing 
again ?” 

“Yes, sir. He said he thought you would come to- 
day and would like a dish of bream for dinner. Shall 
I call him?” 

“O no, I’ll walk down there, as we like to talk much 
alone. Will he be up or down the lake?” 

“Up, I think, sir. He went out that way, and he 
had a fine catch there two days ago. You’ll find him 
not far.” 

The Captain rt>se and started, saying: “Daughter, 
you are tired and will prefer to remain in till noon, 
I suppose.” 

On first being left alone the two young people 
felt embarrassment, which to each portended a crisis 
that would lead to a delay in correctly understanding 
each other, unless discretion was exercised, and, had 
it not been for the sound good sense of btoth, might 
have resulted in their partial if not permanent es- 
trangement. Each really misread the other’s mind 
by each imagining the other discomfited by their 
unusual, but coveted, situation. 


206 The Legend of McNutt. 

“I’m very glad you did come to see us, Lizzie (or 
will you expect me to say ‘Miss Lizzie,’ now that we 
are both grown?). I feel some sadness, too; for your 
being here brings back thoughts of Nick so painfully.” 

Then Lizzie involuntarily caught her face in her 
kerchief and sobbed inaudibly, but quickly dried her 
tears, and made an effort to reply ; but her voice failed, 
and she wept spontaneously, profusely. 

“Don’t let me bring grievous thoughts to you ; but 
I do miss Nick so much, though. I loved him like a 
brother,” he said soothingly. 

Between sob’s she managed to say: “You didn’t 
cause them, Fletcher (let’s not be formal) ; you only 
opened the way for me to weep, and I thank you for 
it, for it seemed my heart would burst without it. I 
now call up some things concerning my dear mother. 
Do you remember the time some preachers came 
here, and they had such a religious occasion? Didn’t 
mother join the Church then in this now half-decayed 
house? I faintly call up her talking to them at her 
death, too. It couldn’t have been the same occasion — 
I can’t remember; we were so small.” 

“Yes, I can partly recall the circumstances,” said 
the young man. “The preachers made two visits to 
us, and the first time I think your mother bought 
some books from them and they gave us some tracts. 
Are not these the very books ? I see here her name 
in them, and some of the tracts placed along between 
the leaves. One has Nick’s name on it written with 
poke berry ink. I’d know Nick’s hand anywhere, 
even from a boy. I was reading in them before you 
rode up, and fell into a train of thought about the 
happenings of those times. ’Twas distressing about 


The Legend of McNutt. 207 

your mother seeing the headless Indian so much 
while she was so sick. And my poor, dear mother, 
she caught her death then, too. I didn’t think much 
of it then, but it’s all so sad to me now. But don’t 
weep.” 

The girl was verily venting her sorrow, and his 
effort to console her brought great glistening orbs 
out on his cheeks. They looked each other straight 
in the face a moment ; then she said : “Where are the 
graves? Don’t you want to go with me there? I 
want to see them.” 

“Come along, then,” said he, rising. “We will go 
out there and back before Sandy gets dinner ready.” 

The June sun was near meridian, and the tall un- 
dergrowth prevented free circulation of the atmos- 
phere, so that had their walk been long it would have 
grown uncomfortably warm ; but they were soon in 
the open space about the graves, with mellow, re- 
flecting memories, becoming more acute and distinct. 
Lizzie asked : “Which of these is your mother’s, and 
which is my mother’s grave ?” 

“I would not remember, myself, but father con- 
vinced Captain Jane's that the one on the north side 
is yours, and this mine.” So saying, Fletcher paused 
between them at the foot of the graves, and, kneeling, 
placed a hand on each. “I don’t care which it is,” 
he said, “for they are both very dear to me. I shall 
take as much care of one as the other. I claim them 
both.” 

Lizzie instinctively walked between the head of the 
graves, and knelt, saying: “I didn’t know you loved 
mother and Nick so much. How did you learn to love 
her?” and they talked and wept together. 


208 The Legend of McNutt. 

“Ah, she was so kind and gentle ! She was never 
out of patience with us children ; and, all the two 
years, these two were as sisters. They truly loved 
each other and spread it everywhere among those 
about them. And, Lizzie — hem — hock — uh — you are 
mightily like your mother.” 

Silence was becoming painful when he thrust aside 
his hesitancy and made bold to draw nearer to her, 
and with the advantage of the moment said: “You 
needn’t be surprised if I love you too. You know I 
have a right to.” 

Her sobbing ceased as she looked full in his eyes 
and said : “I am surprised that you feel so very ten- 
derly toward us, and I feel least worthy of all ; but 
whoever loves me and mine as you do shall never 
be forgotten.” The tender frankness written in her 
whole expression revealed much more to him than 
words ; and, catching himself on one knee, he set him- 
self forward to get nearer, holding out both hands 
immediately in front of her. 

Their fathers had leisurely strolled down the lake, 
carrying a fine string of bream, and talking of the 
position of the graves and other things ; for Captain 
Janes was still not perfectly satisfied on which side 
of his wife Mrs. Pluet had been laid, being so broken 
in spirit when one death followed so close upon the 
other. Ten years is quite a long time to remember 
just such a thing where both are alike. They were 
coming up the lake bank fifty yards away, and had 
ceased talking, when the Captain halted and in an 
undertone said to the other : “It makes little difference 
to us now, Dan, for the scene of our eternal grief has 
become the sacred shrine of our children’s happy 


The Legend of McNutt. 209 

union and they stood together mute and viewed 
from cover the grave transaction. 

Fletcher had bravely followed up hi's actions with 
words of self-possessed manly fervor and affection, 
saying: “Well, then, if your heart is perfectly free to 
it and you do love me, promise me here to be forever 
mine, for, believe me, your love is more highly prized 
than I can hope to tell you.” 

She yielded both hands to him and threw her soul 
sentiments into the following words : “I am so glad 
you afford me this opportunity to tell you what I 
longed for you to know, and to learn from you what 
I still more desired. I do love you, Fletcher, and 
have never thought of another for a life companion. 
It is best that we understand each other at once, and 
not be halting in doubt for months, possibly for 
years. My heart is now entirely content.” 

He gathered her to his arms and they were half 
weeping, half rejoicing, as he dried away the tears, 
first from her eyes and then from his, and were in 
this attitude when their fathers beheld them in si- 
lence, and then withdrew to the house another way. 

No further embarrassment or formalities chilled 
their perfect confidence and freedom. They remained 
between the graves some minutes longer, reminding 
each other of the measure of reparation each expe- 
rienced in the other’s companionship. Lizzie said she 
would have much of real Nick and all of Fletcher to 
carry through life, and would do her best to be what 
of her mother Fletcher most admired. He in turn 
passionately said to her : “Lizzie, you are already the 
best of both your noble parents, and will be all the 
world to me. I seek no greater happiness in this life.” 

14 


210 The Legend of McNutt. 

They were married in spirit at once — all their pur- 
poses were shared freely, and their plans were en- 
tirely mutual. They now heartily repledged their 
fidelity between the graves, sealing the same with a 
holy kiss and for a season withdrew from the spot, to 
which they often returned together during the next 
twenty-four hours. 

Before dinner was called all had gathered to the 
house. The young people felt so changed in their re- 
lations that they wondered why their fathers failed to 
note it. The conversation turned on religion, which 
was not objectionable to any in the company. Mr. 
Pluet’s habit was to conduct regular service three 
times a day with Fletcher and Sandy. The day's 
happenings had so impressed both Captain Janes and 
Fletcher that they at this time felt more than usual 
spiritual concern, and especially, after the scene at 
the graves, it was natural to fall into this ever-pres- 
ent, ever-new and universal topic. 

“How have you felt ’bout r’l’gion of late, Henry? 
Don’t you mis's the Spring Hill meetin’s while you’re 
away so much?” 

“At times I feel lonesome about it, but to-day I feel 
like we’re in a sanctuary in this very house. This 
to me would be the most proper site for a chapel in 
future, when the country settles up and justifies its 
establishment. I had a great conflict with myself 
when poor Nick went down so untimely. I com- 
plained that a merciful God wouldn’t wrench away 
a dutiful son like that ; then I thought of so many 
thousand instances of the kind, which are permitted 
by Him, and concluded that we will all have to yield 
to the inevitable sometime and in some manner, and 


21 I 


The Legend of McNutt. 

tried to think he’d as well gone that way as any other 
noble son. Then I soon found that I lost ground by 
murmuring and repining, and ceased, and I have felt 
some better since. Then when I spent the night with 
you here, not long since, I was much strengthened 
in spirit ; but, Dan, I have never felt entirely confident 
I w r ould be saved like I believe you do, and as you say 
dear Sarah and your good wife talked and felt. I am 
really desirous to be entirely filled with joy and recon- 
ciliation.” 

“Those are my feelings exactly,” interrupted 
Fletcher, “and I want you and pa to pray with me 
that I may be satisfied. How is it with you, Lizzie? 
Are you happy?” 

“Perfectly happy,” she replied in a clear, sweet, 
mellow voice, with the very exquisiteness of satis- 
faction in both voice and countenance, and the deep 
expression in her soft gray eyes brightened to real 
eloquence as she continued : “I’m reconciled now to 
everything on earth except that you and papa haven’t 
experienced entire satisfaction. When I was at 
Natchez last summer attending the meeting, I had 
faith, and the Holy Ghost just made me so happy I 
felt I was converted, since which time I have not de- 
sired the ball or theater or things like that ; but now, 
O, I just love the Church and Christian service. I 

had a time, too, in New Orleans, with Mrs. B ’s 

family all so entirely the other way ; but I finally car- 
ried my point, and they went with me to church, and 

most of them were converted. Mr. B and the 

oldest son were in business and kept open shop on the 
Sabbath, and of course they couldn’t be induced to 
church, and remain hard-hearted yet so far as I 


212 The Legend of McNutt. 

know. But I still pray for them — they were so kind 
to Nick and me all the nine years.” Here she ended, 
wiping the overflow of moisture which found its escape 
from the eye through the nasal duct. 

“Then I want you to pray for me, too,” said Fletch- 
er, hardly restraining from taking her hand, as he sat 
near her. 

“Let us pray,” said Mr. Pluet, and all knelt rev- 
erently again in the lake home. He led the prayer, 
in which he recounted the providences that had pre- 
served them in life and joy amid its perils of tempta- 
tions and wars ; then dwelt on the many and deep 
sorrows they had been called to sustain in tribulations 
and bereavements ; and finally prayed that each pres- 
ent might be delivered from spiritual doubts and enjoy 
spiritual reconciliation as had lately been their happy 
experiences in temporal affairs (alluding both to the 
raft difference and Fletcher’s and Lizzie’s happy con- 
summation). He lingered in fervent perseverance in 
behalf of the two who had requested prayer for com- 
plete reconciliation. As he proceeded Captain Janes 
uttered seasonable amens. Lizzie had not heard her 
father pray before, and she clapped her hands and 
thanked God aloud. And he arose and gathered her 
to his arms and with unusual emphasis exclaimed : 
“It’s all right now!” Fletcher had likewise arisen 
with a shining countenance, and was holding each of 
them by the hand. They looked with expressive 
smiles from one to another, but spoke nothing au- 
dibly until Captain Janes with his loose hand clasped 
the joined hands of the other two and said : “The Lord 
mercifully look upon you and keep you one with 
him 


The Legend of McNutt. 213 

“Amen !” said Mr. Pluet, as he drew nearer and laid 
his hand on those of the trio. 

Erelong they were settled down to quoting Scrip- 
ture and discussing Peter’s sermon at Pentecost in 
great faith and apparent joy and satisfaction. 

“I never could understand the Bible so well be- 
fore,” remarked Fletcher. 

“Nor I, but it’s plain to the heart of faith,” joined 
the Captain ; but here he was interrupted by his daugh- 
ter, who asked, “Papa, why did you take Fletcher’s 
hand and mine, awhile ago, and ask God’s bless- 
ing on us together?” and her manner evinced 
such sincere frankness that he knew she expected a 
direct reply, though she colored up a little at her own 
simplicity and glanced her eyes toward Fletcher to 
note the effect her question had on another with 
equally as guilty a conscience as hers, who with half- 
closed, smiling eyes was absorbed in fond mischiev- 
ousness, under cover, at her boldness. This caused 
a deeper hue of crimson to momentarily mantle her 
cheeks, but she was thoroughly composed and all at- 
tention when her father replied : “Because you were 
together in more respects than one — you were stand- 
ing together, and together in faith and gladness, 
and” — here he halted and cleared his throat. 

“And what?” insisted Lizzie. 

“But not so close together as when out between 
the graves,” mischievously interposed Mr. Pluet, with 
a twinkle in the corner of his eye. 

Lizzie’s confusion was telltale in its confessions, so 
that she involuntarily buried her face in her hands, 
but soon looked up. “How did you know anything 
about that? We thought we were alone.” 


214 


The Legend of McNutt. 

“Ah yes, but fathers have watchful eyes when naugh- 
ty children are left to keep house,” he replied with the 
same merry twinkle that used to delight his wife so 
much ; “but it’s all right ’ith me if youns is satisfied.” 

Fletcher was well teased, but more amused at the 
blushes of Lizzie. 

“How does it stand with you, Capt’n?” he asked, 
recognizing this as his best opportunity to prevent 
personal embarrassment. 

“Ah, well,” said the young lady’s father, “ ‘that 
that is, is;’ and since we are all so happy, I see no 
need of altering matters. I shall expect great things 
of you, my son, and I pledge you a real helpmeet in 
Lizzie, in whose veins courses the purest of noble 
English blood. She’ll stand by you through thick and 
thin if she’s a Worthy descendant of her mother.” 

“Or her father,” joined the young man ; “I’m sure 
she possesses the best of both.” 

“Thank you, Fletcher. You do me honor and your- 
self proud,” was his genteel reply. 

“Lawd a massy !” exclaimed Sandy, “is you’n Miss 
Lizzie done marr’d sho ’nough, Mars Fletch? Fore 
de Lawd, whyn’t you tell me ? I did’n’ knowd dat.” 

Lizzie had wept at the mention of her mother, but 
when Sandy said what he did she was naturally teased 
and answered herself : “No, no, Sandy, we are just en- 
gaged. People can’t marry without license and a 
preacher ; but you say anything about this, and I won’t 
tell you anything else.” 

“No’m, I ai’n’ gwyn’er tell nobody. Who I gwyn’er 
tell ? Don’ da all know it ? But I gwyn’er call you ‘CM’ 
Miss’ do, ’cept it’s when somebody’s close by, ha ! ha ! 
he! he! ho! Thank de Lawd.” 


The Legend of McNutt. 

“Dinner’s ready, do, now. Come to dinner, Mars 
Dan, an’ all yuo alls. You too, Ol’ Miss, ha! ha! ha! 
but I knows you gwyn’er scol’ me ’bout bein’ so late ; 
but dat ’lig’on jes took my time. Dis is mighty lack 
a meetin’house.” 

“No, Sandy, Lizzie will never scold her good old 
friend, so you needn’t dodge behind religion to shield 
yourself from me. It’s a good thing to have to shield 
you from the world, the flesh, and Satan, Sandy, but 
I’ll never scold you.” 

“Dat am sho de trufe, sho a good thing.” 

Lizzie began at once to act as hostess, with Sandy 
as her waiter. Two delightful days and the interven- 
ing night were spent on the lake, when the whole 
party arranged to return to their Natchez home and 
go into business there. When they reached the boat, 
late Saturday evening, they learned that the boat- 
man’s plan was to return Wednesday morning. 

Mr. Pluet had been designated a class leader by 
his pastor at Natchez, and he called the squatters to- 
gether at the boat for a Sabbath service. It was a 
good day. A few were converted and many pre- 
sented themselves as seekers. All this the leader 
reported to the Vicksburg pastor as they descended 
the river, and doubtless the community about Cotton- 
wood Bend received due attention, as was the custom 
in those days. 

Some of the squatters assisted Fletcher and Sandy 
move the camp fixtures from McNutt Lake, while 
Mr. Pluet and Captain Janes were occupied the next 
two days in visiting the homes of the squatters and 
holding prayers with them. By the time the boat was 
ready for the return trip all our McNutt Lake friends 


2l6 


The Legend of McNutt. 

were on board, and, taking a final farewell of their old 
haunts, descended to Natchez, where they settled for 
life. 

The men soon became independent, and drove a 
thriving partnership business in timber, furs, and live 
stock for many years, the latter feature of which was 
committed to Fletcher. This gentleman’s family in- 
creased becomingly, and his home contributed some 
of the best citizenship to the State — far the larger 
number of his offspring being girls, who carried the 
exalted virtues of their mother and grandmother into 
new homes, with change of names, and so helped 
build up the country. 

One of the male descendants of the next generation 
inadvertently allowed his name to change to Blewet, 
which finally took the form of Bluet — Daniel Bluet — 
who settled in after times at old McNutt, and helped 
build up the village when it became the county seat 
of Sunflower. 

Captain Janes’s military services were never re- 
quired, but his Natchez regiment furnished very effi- 
cient companies for the Mexican war, though long 
ere this he had resigned its command. Later in life 
he married a wealthy widow and removed to Ken- 
tucky; and after his death a descendant of the fam- 
ily returned to Natchez and finally to McNutt Lake, 
where he built up a home and reared a family and 
died. None of these forgot the legend of the headless 
Indian, and as the idea of a woman clung to rehear- 
sals of the story of the headless phantom, the ghost 
tale has come down to us in form of “the headless 
woman,” which may still be recounted to the curious 
reader who takes the trouble, or pleasure, to visit 


The Legend of McNutt. 217 

the now almost extinct town of McNutt, with its 
isolated old brick courthouse standing on the site of 
the old Pluet home, its top and sides brushed by the 
sweeping elm or one of its descendants when stirred 
by the gentle breezes in majestic loneliness and “splen- 
did isolation.” 


CHAPTER XII. 


A dark wall of protection 

Hedged around the Southern home," 

Deep-rooted serf connection 
Cognate with the social loam — 

Countenanced by Church and State, 

Tap-twined in domestic soil — 

Varicolored Dixie’s plate, 

Harbored from the brunt of toil; 

A desperate stroke — who could employ? — 

To uproot both, and both destroy. — The Author. 

It is improper, we think, to close this story without 
giving some of the details of Sandy’s later experi- 
ences. As life in the South, at the time the inci- 
dents here related transpired, was incomplete without 
the negro, so this sketch would be without Sandy — 
he is indispensable to all the facts and conditions. 

Many other slaves were bought and owned by the 
Pluets, but none occupied s'o high a place, and none 
were held in such intimate relations to the home life, 
as Sandy. Being a descendant of the old sexton, 
Neal, whose name appears among the roll of Old 
Spring Hill’s charter members, Sandy naturally in- 
herited that same honor, and the sextonship was duly 
delivered over to him soon after their settling at 
Natchez. He was the trusted message bearer, and 
often the foreman, in operating the growing interests 
of Mars Fletcher. The children that came to the 
home all loved “Uncle Sandy” as few negroes are 
loved. They would climb to his knees and beg him 


219 


The Legend of McNutt. 

to tell them the stories of the gypsies and the head- 
less Indian, which he always did when he had time, 
and swelled their tender hearts and imaginations with 
much expatiated phantasmagoria, never seeming tired 
or out of patience on these subjects ; for Sandy was 
now growing old enough, like his old master, to love 
to dwell much on the events of the past. 

Some years after the family had settled at Natchez, 
when the business grew to some proportions, Sandy, 
was sent east about fifty miles to deliver four farm 
mules to a customer who had bought them from 
“Janes, Pluet & Son.” Four days were necessary to 
make the trip and return, counting the liability to 
bad weather and muddy roads, and for his comfort 
Fletcher put Sandy on his own saddle horse. The er- 
rand was faithfully served according to directions, and 
the old servant back at home by noon the third day. 
Sandy had been at home only a few hours when twen- 
ty or more white men appeared from the eastward 
and claimed him for their prisoner. They came in 
double file up the long drive through the lawn, dis- 
mounted and entered the front yard, sent forward 
a spokesman, and peremptorily demanded the negro. 
Mrs. Pluet (Lizzie) was on the point of calling “Un- 
cle Sandy,” and sending him out to the young gen- 
tlemen in the yard, but something in their conduct 
aroused her fears that some harm might be intended 
against her favorite negro, and she walked to the 
door and asked what they wanted with him. “Never 
mind that, madam, we only want to get hold of him ; 
you will learn later on why we want him, and that 
we are perfectly justifiable in our purpose. So just 
send him out, please.” 


220 The Legend of McNutt. 

Now that her suspicions were fully alert, she deter- 
mined to do nothing of the kind, at least until she 
satisfied herself as to the facts, so Mrs. Pluet indig- 
nantly refused to send Uncle Sandy out, and gave or- 
ders for a boy to run for her husband. 

“No, madam, we will not permit Joe to go for your 
husband — come back here, Joe, you little black skunk 
you, or HI shoot you down; do you hear?” said the 
spokesman of the mob, a man of thirty-five years and 
commanding voice, as he raised his gun and presented 
it at the half-grown negro Joe, who was running brisk- 
ly out the side of the back yard westward by the 
smokehouse in obedience to his lady owner’s com- 
mand. The negro glanced up at the presented gun, 
shined the white of his excited stare at the gentle- 
man out of eyes wide bleared from fright, as he 
turned the corner of the smbkehouse and was hidden 
from the view of the mob conductor, who then turned 
to the lady saying: “We will allow no interruption 
of our purpose, madam, and will soon relieve you 
of further trouble ; make way, and” — 

“But what do you want with Uncle Sandy? He 
brought a receipt for the mules and certainly he can’t 
be accused of wrong dealing with them! What do 
you mean by such unusual conduct?” 

“Well, madam, you shouldn’t inquire so minutely. 
Be assured we are justified in our intentions. It is 
enough to tell you that we want to swing him up, and 
intend to do so if we have to burn down your house to 
get him. We have two thousand dollars made up in 
the company as we rode along to pay you for him, 
and you would do well to send him out at once.” 

“But I insist on knowing what he has done to be 


221 


The Legend of McNutt. 

hanged for ; no matter what it is, I will not permit 
it unless Fm convinced it’s just. I’ll defend him, sir, 
with my own life.” 

“Didn’t he ride his master’s bay horse into the 
country a few days ago, and return to-day, madam?” 

“Yes, sir,” she replied, with rising inflection. 

“Isn’t he a ginger-cake-brown, past middle age, of 
medium size ?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“That’s the buck we are after, madam ; and, if you 
insist, I must tell you that he waylaid Major Edings’s 
fourteen-year-old daughter and committed a serious 
depredation on her person at ten o’clock this morn- 
ing, and he’ll have to die for it, madam, so just send 
him out.” 

By this time Mrs. Pluet’s heart was fast beating 
with anxiety and excitement, and the mob was clos- 
ing in about the house, while the entire household 
of children and blacks were screaming and huddling 
about Uncle Sandy, all nearly overcome with fear. 

“Sandy, where are you ?” called Mrs. Pluet. 

“Yes’m, here I is,” he answered, crouching back 
toward the kitchen, not so much from fear as to await 
the turn of things when it would be proper to come 
forward and defend himself, his mistress, and his mas- 
ter’s house. 

He now came out, ashened with determination, and 
said in a trembling voice : “OF Miss, you know I 
didn’ do no sich er thing as ruinin’ dat chiF ! I ’dare 
. fore de Lawd, I didn’ seed her.” 

“Gentlemen, you are mistaken in your man,” said 
the lady as the mob drew threateningly nearer, with 
guns presented and deep determination expressed by 


222 The Legend of McNutt. 

tight-closed lips. “This man helped to rear me. Mr. 
Pluet’s father and Sandy were reared together, and he 
was never kntown to tell a falsehood in all his life. 
I know he is innocent of the charge, for he claims he 
hasn’t seen the girl.” 

“We’ll have no discussion of the matter, madam. 
What we want is to get eyes on the villain. We’ll teach 
him how to commit such crimes and then lie about 
it. Come out of there, you devil !” And the spokes- 
man’s foot was on the front doorstep. Sandy trem- 
bled perceptibly now, for he feared the consequences 
of a conflict against such great odds, especially on his 
mistress’s account ; for he knew she should not, in 
justice to her well-being, be exposed to excitement. 
Then he was conscious of his perfect innocence. 

“Stand back, gentlemen. Don’t come an inch nearer, 
or I’ll use this gun,” commanded the lady, presenting 
a rifle that stood conveniently behind the hall door. 
“Don’t you go out, Uncle Sandy, and the first man 
touches you I’ll put a rifle ball in him. Get the other 
gunand tell Samand Jim I said bringtheiraxes quick.” 
Then she turned with a steady gaze to the mob. 
“Gentlemen, you’d better leave here unless you want 
to kill out the whole family, for we will all die for 
Uncle Sandy ; and if you offer any violence here, you’ll 
answer it dearly, not only now but in the future. Mr. 
Pluet will be at home soon, and then you had better 
look well to your safety.” 

The foremobsman, scrutinizing the delicate situa- 
tion particularly, motioned to his coadjutors to with- 
draw, and they were soon holding a parley at the 
front gate, to decide how to proceed to secure the 
negro without the liability of damage to themselves 


The Legend of McNutt. 223 

or Mrs. Pluet, the spokesman saying he feared they 
had gone too far already. 

“What hour did you say the crime was committed, 
gentlemen?” inquired Mrs. Pluet, bethinking herself 
of the possibility of an alibi for Uncle Sandy. 

“About ten o’clock, madam, between ten and eleven 
so reported.” It was then three. 

“How far is it to Major Edings’s, sir?” 

“Twenty miles, or thereabout, madam.” 

“What time did Uncle Sandy get home this morn- 
ing, Laura,” asked the mother of a ten-year-old girl 
of remarkably quick and brilliant mind. 

“At eleven o’clock, mamma ; the clock was striking 
when he came in sight, for sister and I were looking 
for him and noticed the time.” 

“Jim, was that horse wet with perspiration, this 
morning, like he had been ridden fast?” 

“No’m,ol’ Frank he wa’n’t tired er bit. He — he — he 
jes’ runned an’ kick up his heels an’ played wid ol’ 
Ribbin, when I turnt him in de lot.” 

“Mamma, Uncle Sandy went to the river and back 
with Sam before noon, then helped me set the table,” 
said Laura, seeing now what it meant. 

“I tell you, gentlemen, you are after the wrong 
man and can’t get Sandy without wiping us all out. 
You may as well go on about your business; or if 
you will, just pitch into us.” 

While the mob were still in consultation, after hav- 
ing heard what was said of Sandy’s early arrival, that 
faithful servant said to Mrs. Pluet : “Ol’ Miss, I stayed 
to Mr. Jimison’s las’ night, dis side o’ Major Edin’s ; 
but I blebe I seed dat nigger do, what ruint dat chil’ 
do, sho, but den it mought not’ve been him do,” 


224 The Legend of McNutt. 

“Does Mr. Jamison know you spent last night there, 
Uncle Sandy?” 

“Yes’m, an’ he rode to town wid me dis mornin’, 
too, as I corned home.” 

“Well, you are all right, Uncle Sandy; but where 
did you see any one you think did the crime? Be 
careful now.” 

“Yes’m, I is, Fs jes been stud’in’. I think da ’cuses 
me cause I rode ol’ Frank, an’ I seed a nigger yis- 
teben on a hoss mighty like Frank, do it had a white 
star in de face ; an’ he seem lijce he wuz hidin’ in Ma- 
jor Edin’s swamp dead’nin’, but I seed him do. I tho’t 
dat hbss was Mr. Dempsey’s hoss, what I seed in his 
lot ’bout twenty miles toder side Major Edin’s.” 

“Aha ! Here, gentlemen,” she called, as the mob 
was preparing to remount and ride to town to see Mr. 
Pluet. Their foreman returned to the door, and the 
confident lady said : “Now, Uncle Sandy, tell him what 
you just told me.” 

He did so, and was just finishing when Mr. Jamison 
rode in sight, on his return homeward, and reined 
in toward the house at sight of so many horses and 
men, partly surmising the cause, for Sandy had told 
him about the negro with the horse he had seen the 
previous evening as they rode together that morn- 
ing. 

This gentleman corroborated Sandy’s story, and he 
now became the center of interest for the mob again, 
this time, however, as a source of particular in forma- 
tion instead of the object of their misguided vengeance. 
Mr. Pluet (Fletcher) soon came on the scene, for Joe 
had only dodged behind the corner of the smokehouse 
to change his course to a devious route through the 


The Legend of McNutt. 225 

garden and orchard, and haste to do the bidding of 
his mistress, in spite of the mob, and doubtless, also, 
with gratification that he had her leave to escape the 
dangers of the mob, and place himself under the pro- 
tection of his master. Fletcher, now in the prime 
of a healthy manhood at thirty-two, was thoroughly 
aroused and highly indignant when he came home, 
well armed and fully determined. But his wife in- 
tercepted him and informed him of the turn of affairs, 
when, through policy for his custom, he acquitted 
himself civilly and lent his counsel to furthering the 
capture of the renegade negro. 

Sandy was dispatched with the “nigger dogs” to 
find the trail of the scapegrace ; but it was soon a 
futile chase, as the horse stolen from Mr. Dempsey 
had been used to make his escape southward after the 
crime was committed by the negro. Two weeks or 
more elapsed before the identical negro was captured 
and the horse recovered to its owner. Two other 
runaway negroes were overtaken, however, in the 
effort, and both severely racked and tortured to extort 
a confession of the crime. One actually died from in- 
juries inflicted, but his master received no compen- 
sation, as the negro had been delivered over to him 
before his death and pay received for his capture and 
delivery. When the hunted refugee was captured he 
confessed to the diabolical deed, and was slowly tor- 
turd to death by fire in the most inhuman manner. 

Mr. Pluet, Sr., and Uncle Sandy grew old together, 
and both superannuated before death, the former the 
honorary member of a wealthy business firm, a re- 
spected citizen, and beloved member of old Spring 
Hill Church, and long years the oldest survivor of the 
15 


226 The Legend of McNutt. 

Masonic fraternity in the town, the first ever organ- 
ized in the State ; the other an honorary member of 
the large household, and chief figure in the negro 
quarter, with a respectable progeny of his own (as he 
took him a congenial consort from among his mas- 
ter’s slaves), remaining the distinguished sexton of 
his mother Church to the day of his departure. 

In tracing these lines, gentle reader, the author has 
been careful to note the genesis of many factors, good 
and bad, which have contributed their influence to 
the weal or woe of a people, at present great, and a 
section wonderful in both developed and undeveloped 
resources. How many of these have impressed them- 
selves on you in passing remains for each reader to 
determine for himself, and what respect may have 
been engendered for a state of life which was fraught 
with so much of hardship and privation to those blaz- 
ing out the paths of human destiny, or desire for fur- 
ther investigation in the fields laid open in these 
pages, must likewise be left to the arbitrament of 
each reader’s consciousness of benefit or interest. 


The End. 



































































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